Renegade
by SilverSatori
Summary: Being the head of a military organization is not easy. Whether it's stubborn vampires or chaotic paladins - Caitlyn Hellsing and Enrico Maxwell know anything out of the ordinary means trouble. When an enemy long thought dead resurfaces, Hellsing and Iscariot seem to have no choice but to join forces. But is there anyone they can trust? [AU]
1. Winds of Change

So, this is my newest story... I won't give away too much except there will be a lot of OCs and it will be more focused on Iscariot.

The chapter titles are usually the titles of songs (mostly classic rock / metal), so feel free to check them out. Without further ado, enjoy reading!

EDIT (31/07/15): There is a cover now! Thanks to my best friend NigruStea for that. Also by her (because I can't draw for my life...) a sketch of Mira as the countess.

EDIT II (8/14/15): Totally forgot this page kills any external links. My deviantart profile goes by the name of Cedidit. You can find the sketches there.

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**Prologue: Winds of change**

_An orphanage near London, 2011_

Caitlyn was woken with a start when the door slammed open hard enough to make holes in the walls. Her first thought was: _They're finally here. _She heard a muffled scream. Somebody started to cry silently. Probably Madeleine. She was only eight, the youngest in their bedroom.

Saint Joseph's was a small place. This bedroom had eight beds, seven of them occupied. The eighth child had been adopted only two days ago. Caitlyn didn't know what the law said about how many kids should be in one dorm, only that she didn't mind. The breathing of the other girls calmed her. It meant she wasn't alone.

Heavy boots pounded slowly on the floor while the gangsters (that's what Caitlyn called them in her mind) went through the rows, studying each face closely. At least that's what Caitlyn thought. She couldn't be sure. She kept her eyes closed and tried to pretend she was sleeping. Everybody did. The gangsters knew it was fake of course. They slammed the doors open on purpose after all. Maybe it was to keep everybody in line. Caitlyn didn't know and was too afraid to care.

It had only been a matter of time until they turned up. The director and part-time employees of the orphanage, "Josephs and Josies", how they were called by the kids, had tried to keep the reports away from them. They only reminded them to lock the doors and windows.

Caitlyn, at age 16, wasn't so easy to turn away of course. In school everybody was talking about the guys that broke into orphanages, checked all the girls out and left without stealing anything. Nobody had been hurt, except for a nun that tried to stop them. She was knocked out with a MagLite. That was it. They didn't even touch anyone if they didn't have to. It was all very strange.

Caitlyn dug further into her pillow and her auburn hair. She didn't want them to study her like a goldfish in a bowl. Probably they would just go out again, she told herself. Still – what were they searching for anyway? No one knew. Maybe a girl from their midst? There had to be a reason the boys were left alone.

Somebody snored. Caitlyn was close to screaming with hysterical laughter. That had to be Sasha. No doubt about it. And the funny thing was, Sasha really was sleeping. Not even a cannon could wake her up before seven o'clock. Tomorrow morning she would wake and wonder what everybody was making a fuss about. _She'll be horrified to find she missed everything. _The only one that wouldn't be scared was sleeping. Life just didn't work like a movie. Heroic fantasies aside, Caitlyn knew it would be the worst idea possible trying to make a stand.

_Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once._

The footsteps ceased for a moment. Then somebody laughed. The voice was surprisingly soft, not at all like some hardcore gangster (or what somebody might think such a person might sound like). Also, he seemed to be quite young. Caitlyn fought the urge to open her eyes. Voices could be deceiving. The footsteps continued and stopped beside her. The light of a torch wandered over her face. Caitlyn froze, every muscle tense. Goose-flesh broke out on her whole body. The man standing beside her carefully pushed a strand of hair out of her face. Caitlyn's eyes burned with tears, but she didn't move. Breathing was suddenly hard.

"You", the man who had laughed said. "Stand up."

Caitlyn didn't move. She just couldn't, even if she wanted to. Her body was frozen. Her brain was running in circles, but somewhere in the background she tried to profile the person. He had a voice like he was used to speak to others, sympathetic and calm. It was very soft and even friendly. Somebody pushed the covers aside and grabbed her arm. The hand was warm and big, but not violent. Used to work, probably a man slightly above average height. Not prone to violence. "Don't try to make a fuss. We won't hurt you. You just need to do something for us and we'll bring you back." No accent, but probably not British either. He was a professional.

He helped her up without dragging her. Caitlyn shivered in the cold of autumn. She still hadn't opened her eyes. The man with the soft voice led her to the lockers. Caitlyn knew that because they walked to the window. She could feel the light of the street lamps from outside. The man let go of her arm. "Which one?"

"Bottom left", she replied automatically. There was a _clang _when the locker was opened. The door sometimes got stuck. The man gave her her clothes. It was not much, just what the orphanage could provide. She clung on to it to conceal her trembling. She was barely able to walk. He led her out of the room and closed the door. Then they turned left.

Caitlyn counted her steps. Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen. They stopped. There was an old broom closet here. She knew the orphanage by heart. As a child she had counted the steps leading from one point to the other when she was bored. She had been bored a lot.

"Dress yourself properly, it's cold outside," the man told her and nudged her gently in the direction of the door. Caitlyn went inside and it was closed behind her.

She finally was able to open her eyes again. There were no windows, but she knew where the light switch was. The harsh electric light from a single light bulb stung in her eyes. Just now she realized she had been crying all the time. Her face was wet. She wiped it off and started to undress. Now that she was conditionally alone, her brain began to work again. What did they want? Why her?

_Can't be rapists. That operation is way too elaborate just to find them a girl. _The thought was a bit relieving. The only other explanation was that it was about her in particular. They had searched for somebody and obviously thought she was that person. But why?

"Are you ready?"

"Not yet," she croaked. Hastily she put on her jeans, a black shirt with long sleeves and a second-hand jacket with the print "New York City". Then the boots that had been too tight for almost half a year now and her way too big trenchcoat. But that had been a gift from a nice old man who died two years ago and she had kept it dear since. There was also a washed-out purple scarf. The only thing left was a dark blue fabric, some kind of scarf as well, that didn't belong to her.  
"Tie the other scarf around your head and cover your eyes. Don't try to peek. And switch off the lights."

"Yes." Caitlyn looked around for a possible weapon. The broom looked like it would fall to dust if she stared at it too hard. No chemicals, nothing else. They probably had cleaned it out. Nothing in this wasn't planned out. She glanced at the broom. Maybe she should try.

Or this was a trap. To see if she intended to start trouble.

Caitlyn wiped off the new tears on her face and put the scarf over her eyes. A terrible hopelessness hat begun to settle in. What could she possibly do against so many? She groped for the light switch, felt it flick downwards and heard the click when the light was shut off. "I'm ready," she stated.

The door was opened and then she was – ever so gently – led out of the closed back in the hallway. They continued to the left. Caitlyn counted her steps. She knew every number by heart. Seventeen from the dorm to the closet, twenty-two to the wash rooms, fifty to the stairs. Sixteen stairs to the ground floor. Nine steps to the door. Three stairs. Sixty-five from there to the gate.

The cold air bit into her face and swept up her hair. She wore it at shoulder length. She would have preferred it shorter but she wasn't allowed to. This was minimum length for the time she lived here. Fourteen years now. Her parents died when she was two, or so she was told. She didn't know anything about them and would only get to look into the files when she was eighteen.

When Caitlyn was younger she had fantasized about a weird connection, a secret about her parents, that they still were alive somewhere. That they had given her to the orphanage to protect her. She imagined adventures and new friends and... now, that she _was _in an adventure, she just wanted to go to sleep and pretend nothing happened. This wasn't cool at all.

They walked down the path to the gate. She was abducted in front of everybody's metaphorical eyes. She giggled and immediately stopped, startled.

"What is it?", the man asked.

Caitlyn didn't want to answer, but she had seen enough films to know this wouldn't help her. "I... I just though how ridiculous it is that we walk out the front door," she answered truthfully.

The man with the nice voice laughed. "You're right. It is."

They reached the pavement in front of the orphanage. A car was started and a sliding door opened.

"Careful now. You're gonna climb into the car and sit on the bench, okay? Put on the seat belt. You ain't going to make trouble, right?"

"No." The man had no accent at all, but... _Ain't_. He got to be American. Maybe that would help the police later on. _If you ever live to tell. _

She touched the fabric of a car seat and climbed into what had to be a van of some kind. Maybe like on _The A-Team. _She found a seat belt and buckled it. The man climbed in after her and checked if it was really strapped. "Not too tight?", he asked. Caitlyn just shook her head. She heard the clicking of another seat belt and then the heavy sliding of the door. The man with the nice voice rapped on a metal wall or something like that and the car drove off.

She didn't pay attention to the sound of cars driving by. It was only a few. They were on the outskirts of London and it had to be around two in the morning. Of course only few were up now. Caitlyn tried to count the turns and – unlike every film character ever - succeed. She was good at counting. Twenty-four right. Thirty left. Probably they used a more complicated route to confuse her. She had no idea where they might be. But that didn't matter. Counting calmed her. She wouldn't do anything stupid.

Finally, the van stopped. There was the sound of metal. An electric gate opening. They started off again, only for a small distance. She heard the man with the nice voice open his seat belt. "Unbuckle," he told her, then opened the door. "Don't try to run. There's nowhere you can go." Caitlyn didn't reply and did as she was told. Her legs were shaking badly. She stumbled when her feet touched the ground. The man caught her. He was slender, but well trained. From the sound of it he wore special clothes, probably black. A professional fighter. A mercenary, maybe. A well-paid one.

"Careful there," the man said. He steadied her and closed the door. Then he led her somewhere. There was no other sound than their shoes crunching on gravel. Caitlyn counted her steps. Twenty-two. Then forty. Then a hundred. Hundred and seven. They left the gravel and stepped on concrete. Hundred and twelve. "Stairs," the man said. Five stairs. They stopped again. The man unlocked a door. Caitlyn heard the key slide into the hole and the bolts open. A padlock, probably. Then another, normal lock. The doors creaked slightly. They sounded heavy.

Inside their steps were muffled by a thick carpet. Expensive. The odor was slightly musty, so the house had been empty for quite a while. It was big, considering the echo. Maybe an old mansion. Two steps ahead, the left. Ten steps more. A door opened. Fifteen. Another door. Twenty more. And another door. The man flicked a light switch. It drenched everything in blue, as far as Caitlyn was concerned. "We'll go down a few stairs. Right of you is a handle. Watch out, they're really narrow. I'll be right behind you", the man told her.

The air was wet and cold. The railing was metal and _very _cold. Caitlyn's hand hurt after a few seconds of touching it, but she didn't dare to let go. The man with the nice voice was right: The stairs _were_ narrow. Caitlyn didn't trust herself enough not to fall down. Twenty-two stairs.

This had to be a basement of some sort. She didn't really want to know _why _they were headed in a basement. The pictures flashing in front of her eyes were just ridiculous. Blood and torture chambers and people like her, normal people. Ridiculous. She should read less. Maybe the Stieg Larsson books hadn't been such a good idea after all.

_Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, Where death's approach is seen so terrible! _

Her foot touched even floor. She stepped down the last stair and waited for the man with the nice voice. The thought of running away and hiding didn't even occur. Where should she go? The basement sounded huge, but she didn't know where it went or where she was anyway. Nobody did, except for the kidnappers. Providing there were more than two.

She heard something skittle over the floor and froze. That sounded like an army of small, many-legged creatures. Centipedes. It had to be centipedes.

She needed to take her mind off the subject before she started hyperventilating. "Can I ask what we are doing here?" Caitlyn didn't expect an answer, but also no punishment. Five, six, seven...

"It's nothing personal if you mean that, at least not for my part. I'm just a mercenary," the man answered friendly. "I'm just bringing you to my customers." Friendly, yes. But also emotionless. He didn't care at all what happened to her afterwards. Being nice to her was just his modus operanti. Suddenly, fear gripped her again. Horrific pictures flooded her mind. The man pushed her forward before she could stop. Would she get out of here alive? All of a sudden the torture cell didn't seem that far off. _Death is a fearful thing. _More fearful was the image of centipedes crawling over her. There were many in basements. That was the reason she hadn't set a foot in the cellar of St. Joseph's since she was eight.

Caitlyn had forgotten how many steps they had made or how many corners rounded, but all of a sudden they stopped. The man knocked and then opened another door.

They went in. It was warmer. Somebody had made himself comfortable for a longer wait. The door shut behind them. Light shone through the dark blue fabric.

"Found at last, found at last," another voice said. It was completely unlike the mercenary's, high and weird and unpleasant. Also, he was obviously a Brit. From London. "So we finally found the little Miss Hellsing. And such a obedient and pretty girl, too. Good job." Caitlyn had no idea what he meant. The name Hellsing only reminded her of the film of the same name.

"The payment," the man with the soft voice reminded. Caitlyn heard the characteristic sound of guns being made ready. Three people at least, she figured. The mercenary stayed calm. "I don't think you are stupid enough to use automatic rifles in a closed room, especially with your precious commodity standing right here. Also, my partners wait for me and will charge in the moment the think something is wrong. I have a chip measuring if I'm still alive and currently sending to my back-up." All warmth had left his voice. "Let us keep this professional, gentlemen."

The client laughed. Caitlyn tensed. She didn't like that laugh. It sounded like metal scraping over stone. The mercenary might not care about her life, but the other man was sadistic. She just knew he was. The mercenary let go of her. He made two steps and stopped again. He received his payment, whatever it was. Locks clicked. He checked the payment. Caitlyn pictured a suit case full of money. Then he went to the door. "Until next time." The door opened and closed and Caitlyn was alone with the man who had ordered her kidnapping and his friends. Or henchmen. Whatever.

She just stood there. Nobody moved. Probably the man studied her. "Take off that scarf." When Caitlyn didn't oblige immediately, somebody stepped forward and ripped it off, including some of her hair. She gritted her teeth.

It was a small room, furbished with a sofa, a radiator and two chairs. The man with the metal-over-stone voice was around forty, with deep wrinkles that showed he didn't smile much. He wasn't fat, but had a tendency to it and was on the best way. He wore an expensive, fawn-colored suit covering it up a bit. His head was next to bald and the remaining hair was an ugly gray.

"Do you know why you are here?", he asked.

"You wanted me to be brought here," Caitlyn answered sternly. The man laughed like this was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

"Indeed. Any why would I want that, little Miss Hellsing?"

"I don't know. Why do you call me Miss Hellsing? That's not my name!"

The man leaned back. Caitlyn began to sweat. It was hot in here. "Ah, of course that is your name. You just don't know yet. Do you want to take off the jacket?" She nodded and he motioned her to go on. Caitlyn was happy to get out of the coat. But when she wanted to take off her purple scarf, the man raised one hand and his henchmen – both tall and strong and not very bright as far as she knew – raised their rifles. Caitlyn froze and the man gave her an unpleasant smile. "I never said anything about the scarf. Joe, bring her a chair."

The right henchman did as he was told. Caitlyn stayed where she was. "Sit down." She did as she was told. The henchman named Joe stood directly behind her. Caitlyn sat, hands in her lap and didn't move. These people were different. If she made the slightest mistake it could be her last. People like him did that out of fun.

"Amazing, just amazing," the man said with that unpleasant smile. "We've been searching for so long and then you're right in the capital. Could have saved us a bloody bit of work." Caitlyn didn't say anything. "What is the name you think you bear?"

She hesitated, looking at the guns. Every henchman had an automatic rifle and a pistol strapped to his belt. That made how many bullets? "Caitlyn Olivier Morris."

The man nodded. "Of course. They kept you away from your heritage. For your own safety. Very clever, but not clever enough. Let me tell you a story:

There once was a woman named Abigail van Hellsing, the famous vampire huntress. She was a good friend of Bram Stoker, who wrote down _Dracula. _Then there were her children and grandchildren and the following generations. The last of the direct bloodline – meaning the males - was Sir Arthur Hellsing and, as their was no other heir, his daughter Integra. Sadly, Arthur died. Arthur's brother Richard wanted the title for himself. He died in an accident only days after his brother. Fell down the stairs. How unfortunate." The man smiled unpleasantly. "Equally unfortunate for the family business when Integra died of an unknown fever only one year later. So the Hellsing mansion was abandoned and Her Majesty's Royal Knights dissolved. Are you with me until now?"

Caitlyn nodded and the man continued, "But, and that's the interesting part, allegedly there is a family secret still hidden here. Something so special it was secured in a basement room with spells – real magic in our time."

Caitlyn couldn't help herself – she frowned. "Magic isn't real."

The man nodded and Joe slapped her. Pain shot through her cheek and she tasted blood. "You talk when I ask you to, understand?" She only nodded, teeth gritted against the pain. The man had strange eyes. They were dark green and brown, but the pupils didn't seem to work right. They contracted seemingly random sometimes and he had difficulties focusing his gaze. "Good girl. This family secret is what we want. And you're going to help us."

Caitlyn wanted to ask how, but stopped herself in the last second. Talking back didn't help her now. The man saw it and smiled. Then he stood up. Joe grabbed Caitlyn's arm, but the man raised one hand. "The young Miss Hellsing can walk alone."

Caitlyn did as she was told. Again. When she was free, she could get her revenge. For now she had to bear being abased by this arsehole. The man led her out of the room and down the hallway. Outside, it was freezing. Caitlyn shivered, but didn't say anything. The two henchmen followed. _Maybe I just wake up at home_, she thought. She didn't believe it, but it would be a nice turn of events. Screw being a forgotten member of a royal family. Screw adventures or secrets. She wanted to go home. Lie in her bed and count the breaths of the other girls. Maybe read a good book and dream about having adventures, until she grew tired of danger and put the book away.

She almost bumped into the man with the raspy voice. He had stopped in front of a door that looked suspiciously like a cell. There was a grid in the upper half. No flap for food, though. A huge sigil was painted on the door.

Did she really just think of it as a sigil?

It was a drawing in red paint or something like that, circular with a lot of symbols she recognized from various religions. Maybe she really read too much, but the paint looked awfully like blood. Her stomach revolted, but she took a few deep breaths. Even if. Magic was bullshit. Nonsense.

"Behind that door is the Hellsing's family secret. Something wonderful and terrible, I heard. And it will be mine." He turned around, suddenly a knife in hand. Caitlyn flinched, but the henchmen grabbed her from behind. She didn't utter a sound. Her throat was too tight to breathe. The man took her hand. His skin was wet and sticky. He pushed up her sleeve and the knife drew a burning line over her arm. Caitlyn had never thought a cut could be that painful. She screamed. Blood dripped on the floor. The man laughed in delight. "Take some of it!", he ordered her. "Put it on the sigil!"

The henchmen shoved her to the door. Caitlyn didn't really know what to do. The blood gathered in her palm. Her hand was trembling when she touched the door. Joe and the other henchman let go of her and she collapsed to the floor, grabbing her arm. It pulsed in the rhythm of her hammering heart. Why did it hurt so much? Tears blurred her eyes and she blinked them away. She needed to see what happened.

The sigil began to glow brightly. The man with the raspy voice stepped forward, laughing like a maniac. "It worked! The Hellsing's treasure will be mine!" The door swung open and he darted in. His laughter was cut off. After a few seconds of dreadful silence he barked: "Bring the girl in!"

Joe – or was it the other guy? - dragged her through the door, not caring if she walked or crawled. Caitlyn scraped her knees, but it was drowned in the pain in her forearm. Blood ran hot over her fingers. _Can you die from something like that? _The thought was ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous.

The man with the raspy voice was red with anger. The room was built from huge stone blocks like the rest of the basement and completely empty except for a corpse. Caitlyn almost threw up. This was all too much. Blood, magic, corpses – what the hell was going on? The evening she had made dinner with her fellow orphans and read a book. Now she was here. The man's voice was shrill with anger. Her grabbed her head and made her look at the corpse. "Look at that! Look! That's your family's treasure! That!"

The corpse was dry. It had been a woman, Caitlyn figured, with long dark hair. The corpse was heavily bandaged with what looked like black leather. Caitlyn almost giggled hysterically. _SM gone awry, I guess. _Then everything went black.

Someone shook her. She coughed and tasted more blood. Pain shot through her belly. Someone kicked her. "You! You little whore! That's your fault! That goddamn mercenary! You all tricked me!", he panted. The man didn't stop kicking her, while Caitlyn tried to shield herself as good as possible. He was out of breath and his kicks grew weaker by the second, but every one of them hurt like hell. Caitlyn was dully aware of being close to passing out again. A pool of blood had gathered where her arms were. It seeped into her shirt.

"Oh dear, that's no way of treating a member of the Hellsing family, is it?"

The man with the raspy voice and his two henchmen spun. It was the only thing persuading Caitlyn she wasn't hallucinating. The voice was female and had a lovely little accent. Eastern Europe, Caitlyn guessed. She had seen an interesting documentary about the former Yugoslavia, where the interviewed people talked like that. Not quite like that, but similar enough.

The man with the raspy voice was shaking. "Who are you?", he croaked.

"We're servants of the Hellsing family. And you are an enemy." The voice came from the door. Caitlyn tried to see something, but her body hurt too much to move. It was a child's voice, a boy who hadn't experienced the puberty vocal change yet. Somebody knelt beside her. "Don't move too much. This is over in a moment and then we'll treat your injuries." It was the boy. He was somehow able to pick her up, despite the slender body. Caitlyn shook her head. It spun horribly.

"Wait. Who are you? What's happening?"

The torches the three man had carried fell to the ground. They started firing. The air reeked of gunpowder. The men screamed. And then there was a hot, wet splatter. A huge drop hit the ground next to Caitlyn. She jerked upright despite the pain and leaned against the wall. Her head felt like it was filled with cotton wool. She threw up. The whole room stank of blood. But at some point her stomach was empty.  
She heard a sigh. "Oh, bollocks," the boy said. He gave her a handkerchief.

"Thanks," Caitlyn said miserably, wiping her mouth. "You don't happen to have a glass of water?"

"Upstairs. Let's go." He carefully took her arm. "Mira, you clean that up, okay?" There was no response Caitlyn could hear... except for something like a current of water running. She concentrated on counting her steps. The boy helped her and she didn't stumble once.

Thirty-five to the warm room. She shivered. Her arms were covered in goose-flesh.

"Wait a second," the boy said. It literally only seemed to take a second until the boy returned with her trenchcoat. She put it on. The worn-off, familiar fabric gave her some of her determination back. She stayed where she was and tried to stand upright. Her body hurt, but it wasn't as bad as she had thought. "I want to know who you are and what this all is about."

"Can't that wait?", the boy sighed.

"Are you trying to oppose our master?" The female voice again. Caitlyn flinched when a figure just appeared out of the shadows. She was sure there had been nobody before. The woman just materialized out of nowhere. Or – the girl. She was not older than fourteen and wore a black suit. The long black hair was cut straight and she wore a fringe. For a moment she just looked at Caitlyn with bright red eyes in a pale face. Caitlyn shuddered seeing that smile. The girl was insane. There was a trace of blood in the corner of her mouth. Then she knelt down and bowed her head. The boy that had escorted Caitlyn did the same. He had a mob of wild black hair and wore jeans and a shirt with old-fashioned vest and tie.

"Sir Caitlyn Olivier Morris Hellsing," the girl said. "We are your loyal servants."

Caitlyn just stared at them. _If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me._

"Walter Dornez, your butler," the boy said. He looked up and grinned at her with sharp fangs. His eyes were red like the girl's. Caitlyn had a ridiculous thought. They were vampires. Like in the films. _Now I'm officially delusional._ The thought was strangely calming.

The girl raised her head and smiled that insane smile. Caitlyn shuddered again. "Vladimira Tepes. Mira, if you prefer. At you service, my master. What are your orders?"

"Uh...", she said. There was an annoying little buzzing sound in the back of her head.

"Lady Vladimira Tepes," the boy, Walter, corrected. "Formerly the vampire queen of Transsylvania, also known as Alucard and-"

Caitlyn passed out.

* * *

Hope you enjoy and give me a bit feedback.

The title song "Renegade" is by Styx. "Winds of Change" is performed by The Scorpions. I'll try to entitle every chapter with a classic rock song. Just for fun. (I also take suggestions.)


	2. Judas Priest

**Chapter 1: Judas Priest**

_Rome, August 15th, 2016_

He barely looked up when he heard the door open. Maybe it was only his imagination. If the door opened that meant more work and he couldn't take that at the moment.

Somebody cleared his throat. Marco Renaldo. Who else? Renaldo was running Iscariot almost alone sometimes. Enrico Maxwell looked up and rubbed his temples. What time was it? Long after lunch, it seemed. God, he was tired. His head was throbbing.

Renaldo had another pack of reports in his arms. Enrico barely sighed, although inside something was screaming out in outrage. Not more of that! It wasn't fair! But – it was his own fault. He had let everything pile up and now the Vatican wanted those reports. As if there was nothing more important to do. He had spent most of his time looking in this Millennium thing and wasn't any further with determining who were the traitors even one month later.

Alexander was sleeping in his lap. The fawn-colored cat had been one of the best choices he ever made. Like so often his friends had been involved. "What?", Enrico asked warily. He would love to do as Alex did. Just lie down and sleep. He didn't know when he had slept more than four hours straight the last time. Probably last week, but the days became a blur by now.

"Chief, we have a situation." Renaldo, ever so calm, always there to run Iscariot when he couldn't. Enrico wondered what was going wrong. He was at least thirty years younger than the seasoned paladin. It should be the other way around.

"What's the matter?" Enrico was dismayed how blurry his words were. He had fought against his accent for years and he normally had it under control, even when under stress. But now the rolling R had sneaked into his voice again and he found himself having trouble thinking of English words instead of Italian. He needed to go back to Canada, maybe visit his parents for a while. The thought made him almost laugh. If only.

Marco put down the pile. "We receive news from an unusual amount of vampire attacks in Great Britain."

Enrico looked through him for a moment and Renaldo was worried. Maxwell was pale under his natural tan and had dark circles under his eyes. He seemed to have trouble concentrating. No wonder after all those hours of paper-pushing. The latest incidents had forced everybody to work overtime, but not like that.

"That's Protestant territory," Enrico finally said. He had automatically switched to Italian. It made it easier voicing his thoughts. "Why is that our problem? We should be happy."

"There were report about attacks in Northern Ireland," said Renaldo and then added a "Sir" for good measure. Maxwell looked like the angry, spiteful, disappointed child he had been not so long ago again. And tired. Very tired. He was a difficult person sometimes. Not bad, just... difficult. No point in pushing him.

He leaned back. "Fine. Great," he sighed. He had to think about that. What should they do?

"I have already informed Alexander Anderson. Is that what you wanted?", Marco enquired carefully.

Enrico smiled, relieved. Alexander. That was a great idea. "Thanks. Really. I wouldn't know what to do without you." Renaldo accepted the compliment with a nod. A quick rise to power was always risky. Sometimes he looked into those green eyes and wondered when the boy would finally snap. And how many would have to suffer then?

There was a bit more to the whole Badrick thing, but... No. Not now. "Sir, with respect, you look horrible. Go rest yourself. I will finish these reports and you can sign them later on."

Enrico was close to declining. But then again, in the state he was now in he wasn't helping anyone. Falling asleep on his desk again wasn't a thing he was eager to do. Last time he had barely been able to move the whole day. And a shower wouldn't be the worst idea either. "Fine." He stood up, carrying the wearily moving cat. At the door he stopped. Screw his accent. It would get better when _he _was better. In here, nobody cared. Renaldo knew worse things about him. "Thank you, Father."

Renaldo nodded and Enrico went on his way. The summer rain today had washed the air clean, but now the sun was shining brightly again. His little flat was only a few streets away. The perks of being a bishop. He laid Alexander in his basket, put out a bowl of milk and went into his room. Enrico vaguely remembered carelessly throwing his clothes on a heap before he fell into bed and the afternoon sun turned into blackness. Renaldo and Alexander took care of stuff. No need to worry. Finally sometime he didn't have to.

"Rico! Wake up!" Somebody shook him, first gently, then, when he didn't respond, more determined. "Your presence as chief is needed."

Enrico growled and pushed the hand away. Chief. Everybody was calling him that. A joke name, originally belonging to the heathen tribes of America. At least nobody could claim the Iscariots had no humour.

He blinked against the bright light shining through the window. What time was it? The first this he saw when his vision cleared were dark blue eyes and dark hair falling in a grinning face. "Good morning, sleeping beauty," Lisa said and stroked his hair. It flowed over the cushion, even though he didn't remember opening his ponytail. That had been last... evening? Afternoon, rather. He sat up and stretched. His body felt a bit stiff, but well rested. How long had he slept? Enrico started to worry. Then he saw the digits on the clock. Only five? Three hours?

There was something to this power-napping after all, it seemed.

"It looked like you were lying stone dead. Scared the crap out of me," Lisa said, laughing.

"I'm not that old yet," he yawned.

The pleasant smell of pancakes and hot chocolate drifted through the rooms. Not exactly a traditional Italian breakfast. Lisa never got rid of her love for those small traditions. Not that he minded. It was more his style anyway. Sometimes he thought he was more Canadian anyway. Especially considering the green eyes and blond hair, which was completely unfitting for an Italian man with his tan.

He swung his legs out of the bed and rubbed his eyes. Lisa laughed. "Wow, you really were tired. Sleeping only in boxershorts."

He put on a random shirt and followed her into the kitchen. She continued, "I also read Renaldo's reports. They're great. You can sign them without hesitation." Pancakes and hot chocolate on the table. He just got to love her.

She stood beside the table and stroked his hair. She always did that. Like she was the older one of them. "You work too much, big brother." He only gave an inarticulate answer. Now that he was waking up, his hunger did, too. "Besides, Mum and Dad asked if we would come over sometime. Or they will."

"That sounds like a threat," Enrico mumbled.

Lisa shook her head, smiling. He was so hellish immature sometimes. "Mum wants to visit Rome again. Then we can celebrate all together."

"I'm pretty busy at the moment," he answered between two bites of pancake. That should be obvious, he thought. He really needed to thank her properly. What would he do without his wonderful little sister?

Speaking of that, what time was it again? Four? No, five. Three hours? How could she have read all those reports in three hours?

Lisa read his thoughts like so often. "You slept a whole day, if Renaldo was precise about your departure. 26 hours. And before you jump through the roof, the reports are all good and done."

Enrico didn't jump through the roof. He just tried to make sense of what she was saying. What? _WHAT?!_

"Tutto il giorno?" He blinked. "Why did nobody wake me?"

"Because you needed it," Lisa stated. Her tone implied that wasn't up for a discussion. Sometimes he thought they behaved like an old married couple, fighting against and for each other. Was it weird? Just because they were _step_-siblings? That was what some seemed to think. Most, actually. Enrico never had thought about her like anything more than his sister and best friend.

He had finished eating and put the plates away. Better check on news from Anderson and take a shower. Lisa followed, when he started picking up his stuff, which lay in a messy heap. "Ahem."

He stopped. Did he forget something? While he wondered about that, he checked his phone. One message was from Heinkel. The girls were on some tropical island at the moment. The mission had gone well (although he didn't like the quotation marks on the "well" - what had gone awry _now_?) and they would return home soon. He had received that yesterday at three o'clock.

And there was a text message from Lisa, saying: "Guess who's a paladin now?"

Enrico frowned. "The exam was scheduled for... oh, wait." He dropped the clothes on a messy heap, just before Lisa hugged him. He lost his balance and both crashed on the bed. "I can't believe I forgot. Congrats." Her hands were icy despite the hot weather. Like always. Maybe her Canadian blood.

"You slept a whole day. No wonder you're even more confused than usual."

"What do you want to say with that?", he laughed. "I'm not confused. Well, most of the time."

"Says you. Anyway, the only thing I need is a signature of Iscariot's chief. Any idea how to get that?"

He ruffled her hair. "Depends on where your form is." She jumped to her feet and ran to her bag. Somehow the paper wasn't crumpled at all. It was a secret he still had to understand. The mysteries of a woman, as far as he was concerned.

He read the report. It was everything as expected. She was a good fighter with both pistols and knifes – preferably knifes; she was good at throwing -, also bare-handed, a pious catholic, strong-willed – just a paradigm of a paladin. All that was needed was the signature of the chief. Enrico got his pen and did her the favour. The sooner she was with them the better. The green ink seemed to glow on the paper.

Enrico Maxwell

Head of Section 13, Iscariot Organization

"That was that. Can I go take a shower now?"

She grinned. "You better do. " He kissed her on the forehead and went to the bathroom.

When he was finished (though his hair was still wet – drying it was a nuisance) it was getting dark again and eerily quiet in the flat except for the sounds of the city outside. "Lisa?" There was no response. Frowning, he walked through the rooms while buttoning his shirt.

Lisa had left a note on the kitchen table.

_I'm at the HQ, getting my weapons. _

_Love, Lisa _

_PS: I cooked, so you can do the dishes._

_Have fun _

He grinned. An old married couple. Lisa left no doubts about who was the boss at home. He loved her too much to complain. Considering his usual attitude that was a miracle, even Enrico knew that. Mostly they weren't home at the same time anyway, so maybe that was better.

Alexander was still sleeping, so Enrico went alone. He didn't bother to make a ponytail. In private he preferred leaving his hair open when he didn't need to be formal. The night was still warm from the rays of the summer sun and would stay like that for a long time. That was one of the things he loved about Rome. A long summer, sun, warmth.

The headquarters were as good as deserted. Normally there were about three or four agents, mostly retired from active service, there to make it seem used at all. The real base was the orphanage outside the city of course. Except nobody really knew that. That was the point of it.

Iscariot HQ was established in a plain grey building with two storeys. On the ground floor there was the entrance, his office was on the first. There was a lot of space that wasn't used unless someone higher up came for a visit. But he liked the office. It had a nice view on St. Peter's basilica and he had made it as homey as possible.

On his office desk stood a huge pile of reports, comically resembling the tower of Pisa. Enrico was barely quick enough to catch it before it fell. Somebody liked building towers too much. It was quite easy to figure that out. The tower made up three piles when he finally managed to place it all anywhere it wouldn't fall. Enrico picked up a piece of paper that had slipped his grip. On it was another message ins Lisa's messy handwriting.

_Just sign them, they're perfect_

_Love, Lisa _

Would anyone ever take her seriously when she made all those hearts on her notes? Probably not. But she was a grown woman, that was her problem.

Enrico leafed through a few reports. They were excellent. The majority was by Renaldo, some – the older ones – from Heinkel. He briefly wondered if he had ever read a report by Yumie or Yumiko. He couldn't remember one. The girls were always together and Heinkel was a very good writer. Her reports always resembled novels, but at least that made it entertaining.

It only took about fifteen minutes to write his name under each one. Since he hadn't anything better to do – thank God for small miracles - he delivered them to the filing department personally. The boy watching it was so surprised to see him – a _bishop,_ for God's sake! - that he almost fell off his chair. They chatted for a few minutes, until the boy was calm enough that Enrico could go back to the HQ and get the rest of the huge pile. There was still the business with Anderson and the girls should be back by now, too. Renaldo was probably sleeping. He had earned it.

When Enrico entered the HQ, he was greeted by girly laughter and chatter. It was almost ridiculous. Sometimes his best paladins were scarcely more than giggling school girls. But it brought a nice touch to the otherwise silent HQ.

He didn't switch on the lights. There was nothing to trip about and he knew the way even in the mere twilight the street lamps provided. "So, you're back," he said, louder than necessary, when he slammed open the door. The girls fell silent, but didn't seem startled, like he had hoped.

"That could earn you a bullet to the head, you know?", Heinkel said. "Or at least a nasty punch."

He smiled in his most charming way. "But, Heinkel, you'd never do that to _me_, would you?"

Lisa wore the habit of a male paladin now, expertly hiding her weapons. Enrico wasn't surprised. Out of the handful of female paladins in the recent history of Iscariot, only Yumie and a retired paladin named Josephine wore the clothes of a nun. He could understand the others. How could you possibly fight in a long skirt? He could barely imagine _walking _in that. The cassocks were horrible enough, so why would anyone wear that out of free will?

Lisa grinned at him. "Sit down, you've got to hear this." Oh yes, she sounded like a school girl. He told her so. She just winked at him. Lisa was sitting on the sofa facing the door. Between it and another one pointed in the opposite direction (one of his ideas when he moved into the office) stood a small table. Heinkel and Yumie sat on the other side. If they had gotten dirty they had already showered. Heinkel wasn't even wearing her sunglasses for once, which were totally inappropriate for inside anyway. Heinkel could easily confused with a man, looking like she did now. Both still were in "business clothes", meaning dressed like a nun and a priest.

They smiled. They had lovely smiles. Maybe that was part of their success. Who suspected cute girls like them to be trained assassins? Even the scars on Heinkel's cheeks almost disappeared when she smiled like this. Yumie was... Yumie. She was mad, violent... and a very good and reliable friend. One of their best fighters with next to superhuman abilities. Yumiko on the other hand, her "actual" personality, was shy and pacifistic. Enrico grinned when he thought about what "people would say". All of them didn't exactly match the Vatican's criteria of good Catholics. That was why they were Iscariots.

For that matter, Enrico had trouble imagining those two in any other job anyway. They were here and that was like it should be.

He wondered for a second if he should sit at his desk. Then he dismissed it. This was no official meeting and he really doubted that would help him in any case. He sat down beside Lisa. "How did it go?" His accent had disappeared again. About time.

Heinkel, her guns hidden under the long coat. Yumie, the katana leaning against the sofa. Two top assassins of Iscariot. They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Enrico frowned. He felt a bit left out. As their chief he should be informed first. Maybe they should be tasked with writing those reports. "I'm dreading something," he said, barely concealing his anger. Lisa elbowed him.

After about a minute they had themselves under control enough to not start giggling when they looked at each other. An absolutely unfitting behaviour for a paladin.

"So, that mission was about a group of vampires on... Where were we again?"

"Key West, stupid!"

Heinkel elbowed her partner. "Did you never learn to stay polite?" She ignored Yumie's grimace. "One of the Florida Keys, anyway. Awesome landscape. I'd love to go on vacation there." She laughed. "Whatever. Those vampires." Enrico thought about the first reports they had received from a retired American priest. Probably about five monsters, causing panic and rumours. Not very good for business either.

"It's wet season, so there weren't too many tourists and Heinkel could easily hide her guns under a jacket," Yumie continued.

"Yeah, and I was baking there!", Heinkel complained. Her partner ignored her.

"But I had to leave my katana." She sounded annoyed. They took turns in narrating.

The vampires were weak monsters, just turned, inexperienced and out of control. They started as soon as the sun had set. Four vampires were obliterated easily. The fifth on the other hand...

Finding him had been a piece of cake. Killing him, not so much. Yumie had gotten her weapon and they had chased him into a dead end. Said dead end turned out to be a stage in front of a sold out theatre. Yumie stood in the middle of the stage while Heinkel climbed through the scenery overhead. "You should have seen their faces," Heinkel exclaimed, laughing. Whose faces she meant remained unclear. Yumie, the vampire, the actors, the visitors? Maybe all of them at once? She didn't say.

"I was not the one who decided to play Tarzan," Yumie shot back. Heinkel nodded, making a scene of waving it off, and went on.

In order to stop the vampire from escaping, Heinkel grabbed a chain holding the scenery and swung onto the stage. Said chain turned out to be too short. It interlocked somewhere, gave a huge yank and she lost her grip. Heinkel crashed straight into her partner from above. The vampire took his chances and ran for his unlife. When the girls had sorted themselves out – not more than ten seconds later – they chased after him, leaving behind a puzzled audience and even more puzzled actors. The chase ended on a jetty directly above the ocean. There were people around, so they couldn't break into an open fight. Yumie surprised not only the vampire by just tackling him into the ocean, where she could finish him off.

Yumie pulled out a sword, complete with a sheath, shining and covered in gemstones. "Look at that." Enrico and Lisa did so. "Are those real?", Lisa asked, incredulous.

Yumie nodded. "It's silver. Real silver and real stones. The handle is steel, I think. I found it in the theatre and thought it was just props."

"Obviously you ruined someone's plan for an unsuspicious murder," Lisa said.

"Well, shit me sideways," Heinkel said, her green eyes sparkling. She was obviously already making up a possible chain of events. "I never thought about it, but that might be true."

Enrico had laughed during the story, of course he had. Especially when he pictured Heinkel falling off that chain. But he was their chief and couldn't make exceptions for his friends. This was an outright catastrophe. Again. "You call that a success?", he growled. "That was the messiest mission I ever heard of."

"I thought better of you than to steal," Lisa said at the same time.

Heinkel interrupted them in the middle of the last sentence. "Messier than the one in South Africa where our cover was blown and Yumie tabledanced to distract them?"

Enrico scowled. "Don't remind me of that. I had to call in a really awkward favour from Section Eight to cover that up." He ignored Lisa's confused glance. He had sworn to himself never to talk about it and before he did so, Hell would freeze over.

Yumie punched Heinkel on the shoulder. "Shut up!"

Heinkel rubbed the aching spot. "Ow." She turned back to Enrico. "Anyway, we got them. Happy?"

"And it was the best mission we had in months!", Yumie added.

"I'll take that sword, for one thing." Disappointed, Yumie put it back in its sheath and gave it to him. Enrico didn't bother to even look at her. "What were you thinking? Hunting in plain sight?" He didn't bother to lower his voice. If they got away with stuff like that, everybody would try. He had already let them get away too often. "You know how the Americans are! Any trespassing of their grounds by an outside force could cause a scandal. If that ever comes out, the Vatican will be in need of a scapegoat. And guess who that will be!" He had stood up and was angrily pacing up and down, the sword still in hand. Now he set it down on the desk, maybe a bit harder than necessary. He took a moment to calm down. Those two... They hadn't earned the nickname 'Chaos Girls' for nothing. "What about that theatre?", he eventually asked. Heinkel gave him a local newspaper.

"_New playwright excels all expectations" _The article featured a photo of Yumie standing in front of the panicking vampire, just as Heinkel lost her grip on the chain she was hanging from. Her shocked face was obvious despite the bad quality of the photo. Yumie had half turned around and looked at her partner open-mouthed. It was hilarious.

Enrico felt a smile creeping up on him, despite still being mad at them. He should definitely keep that article, even if it was just for the photograph. He shook his head. Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. How much luck could two people have?

"You two should start playing the lottery."

"You know what the bible says about gambling," Heinkel responded with a dismissive gesture. Both paladins were obviously nervous. Lisa shot him a reproachful glance.

Enrico shrugged. "Fine." What could he do about it? Despite the chaos they produced on a regular basis, they were Iscariot's best paladins. Except Alexander Anderson of course, the trump card. A trump card he'd love to see right now, actually.

Enrico checked the phone again. Still nothing, but that didn't surprise him. Anderson would have called. He never adapted to anything more modern than a simple cell phone.

There was a silent knock on the door.

"Speak of the devil," he murmured. Then he called: "Come in." Anderson's broad shoulders filled the door frame. He had to duck to avoid bumping his head. "Ah'm back."

"I see that," Enrico said wrily. "How did it go?"

Anderson didn't look happy at all. _Great. Not another one. _"Thae damned Protestants dared tae interfere." _This just keeps getting better._ "Ah finished off the regular vampire, but then thon Hellsing woman turned up wi' ae vampire o' thair own. Ah swear Ah killed it, but... it just stood back up."

_Oh hell._

Enrico didn't know much about the Royal Order of Protestant Knights, only that they had been revived five years ago after a so-called "unknown" heir to the position of Sir Hellsing was found. Caitlyn Hellsing, her name was. She was young, only sixteen, when she go the job. Everything else even Section Eight couldn't find out. It was all very top-secret of the British government. Enrico hadn't been chief back then and when he became head of Iscariot, Hellsing had gone quiet, so he didn't even think about looking into them. His own fault.

_Oh hell, _he thought again. This meant trouble.

Anderson switched from his "paladin" personality to a loving father to the orphans – which also Enrico, Heinkel and Yumie had been in the past – in less than a second. He smiled at the girls. "How did yer mission go?"

"Gut," Heinkel replied hastily. Inside she seemed to pray Enrico wouldn't sell them out. Anderson wouldn't scold them or anything – they were grown 'fowks' now. It was a matter of pride in front of their teacher. They didn't want to admit how unprofessional they had been. _Maybe they could start acting professionally, then._

Enrico didn't want to let him off the hook just yet. "What about that Caitlyn Hellsing?", he asked. "You said she had a vampire. Somebody else with her?"

"Aye. Twa bodyguards. Ah dispos'd o' them."

Enrico was close to screaming with frustration. Anderson had made it even worse than he had imagined. The Holy Father wouldn't be pleased at all, to say the least. _Oh hell. _

He rubbed his temples. A headache was the last thing he needed now. "I'm going to get a hot chocolate. Anyone else?" Hesitating agreements.

"Ah'll help ye," Anderson proposed. The main quarter had an own kitchen, scarcely used, but still handy sometimes. Anderson put the milk in a pot and heated it while Enrico got a few cups.

"Hou bad did the lassies screw up?"

"Who said they did? They achieved their goal," Enrico said vaguely. There, he was doing it again. _Family comes first._ He sighed.

Anderson laughed softly. It sounded like bear snickering. What an odd thought. But in some way, Alexander _did _resemble a bear. A lot, actually. "Ah just ken thay're troublemakers," he said. "Ayeways hae been."

Enrico felt his eye twitch at that. Even though he never really wanted to admit it, of course he knew he had that little tic. And that made him even more angry. "You're the one to say that," he jeered. "Are you aware that this might cause an international conflict? Why did you kill her bodyguards?"

Anderson grunted. "Dinna tell me ye care aboot thae heathens."

Enrico leaned against the counter and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Not really. But after the incident in Morocco we just can't afford to get on bad terms with the Holy Father." He broke off before he could say anything else and break into another rant.

Anderson didn't reply for a few minutes. Then he put the milk in the cups, mixed it with cocoa and put them on a tablet. "Foin," he said. "Ye're right. And now?"

_I wish I knew. _"We'll see how this develops. You stay away from Hellsing. We all do, for now."

Anderson stopped, rigid. "You want us to falter in front of the enemy?", he growled. Again, it sounded like a bear. A dangerous one.

"That's called a stategy," Enrico snapped. "I'm not saying we let them do whatever they want." Before Anderson could say something else, Enrico took the tablet out of his hands and carried it inside. Lisa grinned at him like they were sharing a terrible secret. The terrible secret that this was the second hot chocolate they had today. _Truly a fearful thing_, Enrico thought and suppressed a smile. Sometimes he wondered how she did that. Always making the situation seem only half bad.

He did his best to keep the conversation away from how they would go on after this. He needed to do _something_, before this got any worse. But he was clueless _what_ this something might be.

Cups were emptied and topics changed. Yumie changed back to Yumiko. It was dark outside and quiet, except for the noises of a nightly Rome. Lisa had all sorts of questions about "paladin stuff", as if she didn't know everything yet. Incredible enough, Enrico was already tired again. He suppressed a yawn.

"Ah'm going back tae the orphanage," Anderson suddenly announced. "Anybody with me?"

"Yeah, we better go." Heinkel yawned herself and stood up. Yumiko followed her example.

"Good idea." Lisa stood up as well.

_Finally, nothing to do for now._ Enrico picked up the sword. He had an idea what to do with it. If he found the time for that in all this mess. Turn it in to the armoury he could still do later.

They went to the exit all together. Enrico locked the door and activated the alarm from his phone. The system had been his idea and mostly his work as well. One could never be too sure. More specific, he didn't trust the other sections. Politics were a dirty business. Not that there was anything of great importance in the HQ.

They said goodbye. Heinkel and Yumiko went with Anderson. Most of the time they were home they spent in the orphanage, even though they - theoretically - had their own flats somewhere in the city. Enrico didn't know and had never asked.

Lisa linked arms with him. "Don't look so gloomy. Tomorrow morning everything will be clearer."

He sighed. "Probably. Anderson can be so..."

"Overzealous."

"Exactly."

"He's not the only one, you know?"

Enrico wasn't really listening. "Maybe." They reached the home they had lived in for almost four years now. When he had become leader of Iscariot and Lisa decided to become a paladin.

Enrico placed the sword on his desk. He could get to that later. While they got ready for bed – this time properly – Lisa listened to Ed Sheeran's "I see fire". She had a thing for that song the last days, even though it was almost three years old. Enrico didn't hear it. His thoughts were wandering. "Oh, damn, I forgot to tell Yumiko and Heinkel to file their reports themselves," he said to himself.

Lisa nudged him out of the way. "You're mean! They just came back from-"

"From a tropical island where they had the whole day for lying in the sun."

Lisa thought about it. "Well, you're not wrong. But it's still mean. Besides, you just want to have Heinkel's reports because it always reads like a crime novel."

"Mh-mh." Maybe he should look into that Hellsing organization. If they had a vampire he couldn't just leave them alone. Not that they had opposed the Vatican like that.

"You want to stand there all night?" He snapped out of his thoughts. Lisa stood right in front of him and grinned. "Goodnight, brother," she said pointedly.

He ruffled her hair, which provoked an indignant squeak. "Yeah, goodnight." He would. No way around it. But not today. At least he got all that old stuff off his chart now.

An international incident the Pope would be _very _angry about. And that if he was lucky.

Enrico could kill Anderson for being so stupid! Was that the same man that had raised him, at least for one year?

Hellsing was back up and they had a vampire not even Anderson could kill.

Badrick had been a treaty violation of the Vatican.

Meaning they owed those damned protestants something.

And he had no idea what he was to do about it.

_Oh hell. _


	3. Born to be Wild

**Chapter 2: Born to be wild**

_Ferdinant Luke's, orphanage outside of Rome, August 18th, 2016_

"You let your guard down." The girl snarled and lunged, throwing rapid punches. Heinkel blocked every single one of them with until her opponent retreated, out of breath and frustrated. She charged in, just as the girl tried a high kick. Heinkel caught the foot just centimetres from her head and spun her around. The girl followed the movement instead of fighting it and kicked Heinkel in the solar plexus. The paladin stumbled back, pain shooting through her body, and gasped.

The girl cartwheeled and landed on her feet. The dark hair fell in her face. She glared at Heinkel when the paladin laughed. "Not bad."

The girl faked an attack at her face, then swooped low and tried to get her off balance. Heinkel dodged, caught her in the process and flipped her over the hip. The next moment the girl lay on the ground, face in the dirt. "I told you you let your guard down."

The ankles of the girl locked around hers and Heinkel fell, crashing down. Before she could think of a reaction, she had a knife pointed at her throat. "And now?", the girl asked.

"Not bad," Heinkel repeated, smiling. The girl let go of her and they stood up. She put the blade back in its sheath and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Not bad? That's all you ever say. Don't I get better at all?"

Heinkel wiped sweat off her brow. "Of course you get better. Look at what you can do now. We started from scratch."

"Yeah, but I was twelve!", she complained. "So what?"  
"'So what?' When you turn eighteen you can be a paladin."

"But you were-"

Heinkel cut her off. "As good as eighteen when I started my training. The rules aren't for fun." The girl didn't reply. She was an angry child, Renaldo had told Heinkel four years ago. And angry she was. A troublemaker. Just like the Chaos Girls.

"We better go back now," she decided. The girl didn't argue, even though she looked horribly disappointed. She knew better than that. Anderson would be furious having one of his precious orphans dragged into all this. They had to train in secrecy and had for four years now. The times where Anderson got the recruits from the orphanage children were long over.

They packed their stuff and Heinkel put on her coat again. That was actually too warm for now, but the sun was setting and she couldn't afford a cold. Something was coming, she felt it. That sounded like out of a bad novel, but she had learned to trust her instincts. It wasn't just all those weird vampire attacks. There was more to it. Better to prepare everyone as good as possible.

_Four years ago_

Heinkel enjoyed the last rays of the summer sun on her face. Somebody was probably missing her already and Anderson wouldn't take long to figure out where she was. Heinkel could do without another scolding. She was a twenty-two year old paladin, for God's sake!

Below her feet, about five or six metres down was the yard of the orphanage. She just loved being up here, the silence in the evening, but also watching the kids from up high. Few ever noticed her. But what she liked best was the freedom of the open sky. Balancing over the rooftop. She had tried cartwheels and handstands – it was just wonderful. The dangerous things she only tried when no one was around of course.

Anderson might have a point, though. She was setting a bad example for the kids. Up till now nobody had tried to get up here yet. She had covered up her routes and tricks how to get on the roof and the most dangerous spots were lined off. But if she could do it, one of the kids might, too. There was a first time for everything.

So she should probably get down. Not that she wanted to. She loved being up high. Whenever they had to take a plane she wished the flight would never end. She was just starting to get up when a car pulled up on the street. It was the only car the orphanage had, an old, black Fiat. Father Renaldo got out and opened the rear door.

The girl was about twelve years old and had short, dark hair. It looked like an attempt to fix a ruined haircut. Heinkel knew her fair share about that. From here, also the girl's eyes seemed to be dark, even though she was very pale. There were bruises on her slender arms, even visible from a distance. She shook off Father Renaldo's helping hands and waited in stubborn silence while he got a small blue suit case from the trunk. She took it and they went up the path to the orphanage. Then she looked Heinkel straight in the eyes.

The paladin froze in surprise. The girl's eyes were hard. She looked like someone who had experienced something terrible and was shutting it out by being ruthless and cold and... well, bitchy. Heinkel wondered if she was overinterpreting it. That seemed too close to her own life to be true.

The girl looked away before Renaldo realized Heinkel was there. They entered the orphanage. Heinkel got up and went over the roof to the backside of the building. From there she jumped on the flat side wing and used the ledges on the old building to climb to the ground. It was quite easy, if you knew where to go.

When she went inside, Anderson was waiting. Somehow, she still tensed inside, as if she had been caught doing something bad. Even after all those years. But Anderson didn't seem to have noticed her absence. "Ah, perfect timing. Marco wants tae see ye."

Heinkel nodded and Anderson pointed at the door to the huge dining room. The orphanage took care of about one hundred boys and girls up to the age of sixteen. By then the few that stayed in the orphanage up to that age were independent enough to get a head-start in life. It was a good place.

The room was empty and all the chairs neatly pushed to the tables. Well, except for one, where the girl from before was sitting. She stared at her feet.

"Heinkel, good to see you so fast." Heinkel walked up to them and wondered what this all was about. "This is Victoria Caine. Or Vittoria, which it says on her passport."

"My name's _Victoria_!", the girl growled. She spoke fluent English without an accent.

"Her parents... just disappeared. We don't know anything about their whereabouts."

"They're dead," Victoria hissed. She was crying and didn't look up.

"She's half Italian, half American, but the court issued her to stay here."

Heinkel looked from Marco to Victoria. "I'm with you so far. So...?"

Renaldo didn't immediately answer. He turned to the girl. "Victoria, this is Heinkel Wolfe. She is a part-time employee." He smiled when he said that. _Part-time employee. Nails it,_ Heinkel thought.

Victoria didn't look up. "Uh-huh," she murmured.

"She will show you around tomorrow and will be your mentor as long as you get used to your new home."

_Wait... what?! _Heinkel wanted to object, but she couldn't do that in front of the girl. She just frowned. Renaldo gave a knowing smile and went on. "Now be a good girl and go to bed. Father Anderson is waiting outside." Victoria flashed at him, but obeyed. The door swung shut behind her.

Heinkel put her hands on the holsters. "Mentor, huh? When did you want to tell me this?"

"I did just now," Renaldo said. "To be honest, she is right: Her parents are dead. They were killed by Iscariot after they were turned into vampires. The child needs someone to lead her. She's stubborn and wild. Just like some others I used to know."  
"So I should... what? Train her?"

"If you think it to be necessary, yes. She needs to get rid of her aggressions. But much more she needs someone who understands. Who listens and is her friend. You think you can do that?"

Heinkel thought of those hard eyes and the hidden pain in them. "I guess."

Renaldo nodded. He wasn't surprised. "Then have fun. I won't say it will be easy." _If she is like me, it won't. _"What about my paladin duties?"

"You go on like always. It's not really a secret, right?" Heinkel shrugged her shoulders. Of course not. Maybe Yumie and her shouldn't have started telling the children wild stories about their hunts. They loved it – the two paladins and the children alike. Everybody else – not really. But now it was too late. Kids could be pests if they wanted something. Renaldo turned to go. "Although Alexander would not at all be happy about one of his proteges getting involved with actual fighting." With that, he left her to figure out what to to now. All of a sudden she was a _mentor._ A teacher, like Anderson. She wasn't exactly sure if she liked that. But that was irrelevant now, it seemed. Damn it.

Despite the risk of Anderson getting angry with her, Heinkel climbed on the roof once again, now in almost perfect darkness. She needed to think. To come up with some kind of plan.

The gable was narrow, but she walked like it was even ground, lost in her own thoughts. What the hell could she do? To raise a child, even an older one like Victoria, she needed a plan. If she was honest, she wasn't exactly good with stubborn people.

She stopped, then bowed, grabbed the gable and performed a handstand. It was easy, actually. She just needed to keep her balance. Her coat turned itself inside out and she felt her guns weighing down in their holsters. She actually preferred the version strapped to the thighs, but they were hard to conceal. After a while, she became bored and lowered her feet until she could stand up again.

Overhead, the dark blue sky blinked with countless stars.

"Can you teach me that?" Heinkel spun, her hand already on its way to her weapons. Victoria was slightly out of breath, but her stand was more or less secure, considering the steep roof on both sides of them.

"What the hell are you doing up here?", Heinkel snapped. Anderson would kill her if he found out. The new girl – her protegee – up on the roof with her in the middle of the night. Not good.

"I figured I'd find you here." She walked a few steps, then stumbled. Heinkel caught her hand and steadied her. "You're my mentor, right? So I can ask you everything."

"You should be in bed right now," Heinkel growled. She couldn't believe a little girl had been able to sneak up on her. This was the first time she ever met anyone up here.

"I'm not tired."

"Good for you."

Victoria sat down and placed her feet on the tiles. "My parents are dead, right? Your people killed them."

Heinkel sighed. This could take a while. "Yes. They were vampires."

"Like in the movies?"

"Quite. Not Twilight, though."

"Those aren't real vampires."

Heinkel laughed. "Right. Real vampires are much more scary. They absorb the souls of their victims and access their memories. The more they drink, the less you can kill them. At least that's what our records say."

"You never met a real vampire?", Victoria asked. "What kind of hunter are you?"

Heinkel glared at her. Who the hell did that kid think she was? "I'm not a hunter, I'm a paladin. And real vampires are rare. We normally deal with all that low-level stuff. Freshly turned monsters, terrorists..."

Victoria's jaw dropped. "Terrorists? You... you kill _people_?"

"Iscariot is there to protect Catholicism. We go up against all threats, everything vile and unholy." Heinkel blinked. That was more of a school book sample. Victoria was staring at the holsters on her hips. "Iscariot, huh? Never heard of it."

"It's secret." She stopped. What the hell was she talking to a mere _girl_? The orphanage kids thought they were some kind of monster hunters in the name of Catholicism. Iscariot had never been specifically mentioned. It wasn't a _secret _agency out of fun. When – _if –_ the public ever found out about that...  
"You don't act like it's secret, running around like that."

Heinkel had to admit that was right. Anderson would be so pissed about this. "Keep it to yourself, okay?"

"Only if you teach me."

"Teach you what?"

"To fight. I want to hunt monsters and heathens like you."

"No way." Victoria scowled and got up. "I guess then I'll just ask Father Anderson. He's part of this Iscariot, too, right? He looks like a fighter."

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ "Fine." Victoria kept on walking, carefully holding her balance. Heinkel gritted her teeth and followed. Outmanoeuvred by a twelve-year old. What the hell was wrong with her today? "I said fine. I'll teach you."

Victoria stopped. It was easy to imagine her grin. "So I can be... what did you call it? A Paladin? You've got to tell me about Iscariot."

Heinkel shrugged. She had gotten herself into one hell of a mess there. "Yeah. Just keep this between us, okay?"

Victoria beamed. "Great, can we start tomorrow?"

"I'm going on a mission. First you got to get used to the orphanage. Maybe find a few friends."

Victoria shrugged, like an annoyed adult. Five minutes and that girl made Heinkel want to strangle her already. This would be fun in the future. "Fine. Whatever. Let's go," Victoria said. She jumped down on the roof of the side wing. Heinkel followed to make sure she didn't fall. The steps of the girl were a bit too shaky for her taste. Now she had not even that kid to take care of – they were accomplices in hiding something from Alexander Anderson. This got to end bad.

Fucking hell.

_present time_

"Teacher? How is it to be a paladin? To go on missions. And hunt monsters. Shouldn't I try that before I become a paladin?"

"You will when you start your official training," Heinkel sighed. She knew where this was going.

Vicky growled. "But that means I'm going to get another teacher. I don't want that."

Heinkel smiled to herself. "I'm honoured."

"I want to go hunting."

"No."

"Why?"

"You're too young."

Victoria walked faster, passed by and started walking backwards. "You were twelve when you took out those gangsters!"

"That was hardly my choice. And you see what happened." She made an angry gesture to her face. Those scars. Those goddamn fucking scars. It had been thirteen years now. She needed to do something about that. Maybe she should give Brenda a call. She had said she'd tell Heinkel immediately if anything new occurred, but... just to be sure. They could have a nice little chat.

"I can fight."

"I know. But the answer is still No."

"Why?"

Heinkel was tired of thinking up new arguments. "Because I say so! Now stop bugging me!" The orphanage came into sight, with the paved yard and nice bushes and lawns. It was almost dark now. They would need to slip in while everybody else was eating.

"Well, then can we go shooting tomorrow?", Victoria asked unhappily.

"No. When I come back."

"When will that be?"

"No idea."

Victoria hissed. It was a noise between a disparaging _Tss _and an angry cat. "What am I training for if I can't use it?"

Heinkel ignored her words. "I'll ask Marco to keep an eye on you. Continue your training. What did I hear about that Maths Exam?"

Victoria glowered. "Who needs Maths, anyway? Or physics?"

"What would you do to get on the other side of an abyss if you only have a few rolls, a rope, the ceiling and a weight? How much can you stretch it?"

The girl didn't even consider it. "You made that up!", Victoria accused her teacher. "No one ever needs that!"

"Don't be too sure. Besides, how about planes? You know how flying works, right? Electrical currents? You never know what can save your life."

"Stop lecturing me," Victoria murmured. Heinkel smiled to herself. She had won that round.

_Four years ago_

Victoria crashed to the ground. She stayed down for a few moments, then scrambled up. Her clothes were dirty and she was sweating and bruised. Her hair had grown a little and hung in her face. "How am I supposed to hit anyone if you don't stop kicking me?!", she complained.

Heinkel sat on the ground, her legs crossed. "I showed you how blocking works. Besides, you're too angry and too slow. Either you hit your enemy first or you dodge."

Victoria let herself fall to the ground. "That's not fair! You're much bigger and stronger!"

"That happens. You're a girl. It's like that most of the time."

"Oh great," Victoria growled.

"It's just the way it is. That doesn't mean women can't kick ass."

"But this isn't, say, like in a movie where I only realize later what you really taught me, right?"

Heinkel grinned. "Nah. Just old fashioned combat training. You're not karate kid."  
Vicky jumped to her feet. "Then let's get going." Heinkel was barely able to get to her feet before Victoria was upon her, throwing all the attacks she already knew. They were pretty good – the girl had talent – but her moves were uncoordinated and way too aggressive. Still, after three months she was already surprisingly good.

Heinkel could have ended the fight right away, but what would that accomplish? The girl needed to practise. So she simply dodged and blocked every punch or kick going her way. Vicky needed to be faster to win a real fight. _Take it slow, wolf girl_, she heard her old trainer say. That had been when she herself had tried being a teacher for the younger kids in her sports club back in Germany. _They're still at the beginning. You were there once, too. _

"Damn it!" Heinkel was startled out of her thoughts, her body had continued fighting, while she was already planning the future. Victoria moved even more furious now. Something was wrong. The girl tried to fake a low kick. Heinkel took it instead of dodging. Ouch. The girl was strong for somebody of her physique. Victoria didn't expect this. She lost her balance and landed on her butt.

"Damn!" She was crying.

Heinkel hunkered down beside her. "Something wrong?"

Victoria gritted her teeth and shook her head. "More." With out standing up, she tried to get the paladin off balance. Heinkel dodged it, a reflex that was almost a second nature to her now, and put distance between them. Vicky scrambled up and attacked. She faked a kick and tried one of the power-slaps she had just learned today. It was pretty much the same as a punch, but without the risk of breaking your hand. A face could be surprisingly hard.

Heinkel caught the hand less than an inch away from her face. "I have no idea why you're so angry, but that's no way of fighting. Being so impulsive gets people killed."

"Not now. I want to learn fighting."

"That's what we're doing. But there are a few basic rules. No charging in without thinking."

"After all your nice little stories that's exactly what you people do. Do _you_ want to die?", Vicky snarled. Heinkel dragged her forward and flipped her over the hip. Victoria crashed to the ground and laid on her back, coughing. "That was a mean trick!"

"Tell you what. Yumie and I are trained paladins. There's this little thing called experience that you'll still lack for quite a while."

Vicky wiped her face angrily. "I remember you saying that doesn't make anyone invincible."

Heinkel sighed and helped Victoria up. What was wrong with her today? "Of course not."

"So you're going in there anyway. Doing all that risky stuff."

_Damn that girl. Damn this whole business. _"That's not the point. You're inexperienced and just because this is training it doesn't change anything. I've seen too many newbies get killed by being too motivated."  
"If you saw it, the why didn't you interfere?"

"That was a metaphor!" Heinkel could barely control herself. To hell with being a teacher. How had Anderson been able to cope with her, Yumie _and _Enrico? "I can ask Renaldo for the statistics if you want."

"Forget about it." Victoria turned to go.

Heinkel grabbed her arm. She was so done with all of this. "What's the fucking problem? You're already getting a head-start on all the others." Victoria looked at her with those dark eyes full of hate and anger. God, had she always looked like that? It was scary, seeing a child like that. Not too scary, maybe. Not for Heinkel Wolfe. Not with her life story. "Listen," she sighed. "I understand you're angry-"

Victoria broke free, staggered. "You have no idea!", she screamed. "Nobody has!" She turned around and ran, leaving behind a completely flustered Heinkel. How the hell had _that _happened?

She sighed and gathered her stuff. The belt with her holsters and her coat lay under a tree nearby. Heinkel hated being unarmed. She needed to have her guns around to feel completely secure.

The woods outside the orphanage were surprisingly vast, a little spot of peace outside the mega-city Rome. Almost nobody ever came here and what happened couldn't be heard at the orphanage. The perfect place for a secret training. Near it was a tiny arm of the Tiber gurgling softly in summer.

Time to go back and stop Vicky before she ran into Anderson. He wouldn't need long to figure everything out. It was a miracle they had been able to cover it up until now.

She quickly walked back to the orphanage. The sun was setting. She heard the rattling of dishes and laughter from the dining hall. Vicky, mad or not, wasn't stupid enough to charge in. At least Heinkel hoped so. She was probably in the shower.

Heinkel checked her clothes. She wasn't dirty. How long would it take Vicky to become good enough to actually make training exhausting also for her teacher? Quite a while, she figured. Still... She missed real fights much less than expected.

Heinkel decided to join the children and their protectors in the dining hall. She was hungry anyway. The only free space with the adults was next to Anderson. Heinkel didn't pay attention what they ate. She felt like a little girl on the verge of being caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She always had been a horrible actor.

"Something wrong?", Anderson asked her.

Heinkel was professional enough not to wince or anything that stupid. She smiled. "No, Father. It's just... kinda boring here. Did you hear anything new about Enrico or Yumiko?"

"Enrico is still in Rome. Yumiko... well, trying tae... cope." Heinkel nodded. Director Kerr had ordered her to "get herself together". Not considering they didn't want that. Yumie and Yumiko were separate persons. They couldn't be fused just like that. "Ye ken, the chief isnae young anymore."

"You think Enrico will succeed him?"

Anderson shrugged. "Dinnae want tae lie – such a rise to power's no guid for yin. He's too young. The youngest in centuries." He shook his head. "Monsignore Enrico. Hard tae believe he made it." Heinkel didn't answer. Maybe it was true. She sometimes wondered what it would be to have a guy like him as Pope. That was his goal. Becoming one of the most powerful people on earth. And he could do it. If he didn't snap before. That wasn't as uncommon as they would like in Section Thirteen. Enrico might try to look dominant, but he was unstable. Everybody knew. They just pretended they didn't see.

Dinner time was over. The kids were well behaved for such a mixed bunch. They cleaned up the room, pushed the chairs in a neat row and left. They had still half an hour left before they had to go to bed. Anderson accompanied him. Only Renaldo and Heinkel stayed. Nobody seemed to pay attention to them.

"Victoria and you were away quite a long time." Heinkel kept quiet. There it was. Her cover was blown. It was a miracle her "plan" had worked for a full four months. "You need to be more careful," Renaldo said.

When Vicky arrived, the bruises on her arms were had been from struggling against the police. Since then they had faded only to be replaced by new ones. Fighting was not a delicate thing.

"You told me she needed training." Hell, she sounded like trying to justify her actions.

Renaldo didn't show any disapproval. "She is just a child."

"Tell that her. She's tough for a kid."

Renaldo looked at her with those unreadable eyes of his behind the glasses. Sometimes she wondered how much power the chief really had. Why did Renaldo stand in the shadows while he was running half of Iscariot and the orphanage? She could never really tell what he was thinking. Despite his friendliness, as a child that had creeped her out. "Anderson will never approve of this."

She nodded. An unapproved combat training was one thing – the Hellsing organization had just been revived and they were short on personnel anyway. But Anderson would never allow his precious orphans to be involved in this. Those times were long over. They had ended with Enrico, Yumie and Heinkel joining Section Thirteen.

None of these kids should go to hell like them.

"The girl's a time bomb. If I don't train her, I'm afraid of what she might do." Heinkel hadn't even planned on saying that, despite believing in it just as much as she believed in God. Renaldo nodded. "She is an angry child."

"She's a freakin' blockhead," Heinkel growled.

Renaldo smiled. "I know another one of those." Heinkel decided to ignore the direction he was pointing with this. "Alexander will be worried if she is not in bed."

Heinkel surrendered. "I'm already going," she sighed.

"You know where she is?"

"I have a vague idea."

She took the back door. The garden was by far not as big as the yard out front and there were no tiles on the ground. Just grass and vegetable beds. Right on the edge of the central building there was an old rain pipe. It marked the spot where climbing up was easiest. Heinkel would never rely on the pipe itself of course. It had been there when she was a child. Not really trustworthy. But here, between main building and side wing, the ledges were easiest to grip and nobody could see you from the windows. She briefly wondered if that was the same way Vicky used and if Anderson knew about it.

She only needed a minute to reach the tiled roof of the side wing. Somewhere under her feet, children were playing or getting ready for bed. From here she could – theoretically – access every part of the orphanage itself and the Iscariot quarters that took up the rear part of the structure. Weaponry, a shooting range, communications. The quarters were soundproof and partially underground with a few entrances only insiders knew. The children didn't even guess what was so close to them. The HQ in Rome was little more than an office. And despite all the conspiracy theories running around in the world – Iscariot had been secret for hundreds of years. And now that the world suspected something, nobody could find any proof. It was exactly the kind of plot a good thriller had.

The sun was almost down and it grew colder. The street lamps were already on and cast orange light on the pavement. A figure sat on the edge of the roof out front, directly under the cross, her legs swinging rhythmically. One-two. One-two.

Heinkel took a run-up and jumped on the main roof. Her boots gave her enough grip to walk instead of scramble. The tiles weren't too slick, but in trainers this might pose a problem. Under this roof was the attic. Nobody would hear them. The insulation was helpful too. Energy saving was the new concept. Also making the roof a good hiding spot.

The figure got up and walked towards her. In the orange glow her face was in shadows and the sun cast a halo around her body. Then she flipped over. For a moment Heinkel was worried she might have fallen, but then Victoria pushed her body upright, only upside down now. Her body was a straight line. She was a strong girl and trained hard. But she started losing her balance and wavered. Heinkel quickened her steps and caught her feet in the air, pushing the girl upright again.

"You promised to teach me." Heinkel could hear the smile in The girl's voice.

"Actually, I never said anything about this specifically. But let's not split hairs."

"You're doing it just now."

"I'm preventing you from accidentally killing yourself." Victoria was trembling badly now. She was tired from the daily hard training and probably a bit dizzy from standing upside down. She tried to put her feet back on the ground, but Heinkel held her in place. Just so Vicky had to support her own weight. "Teacher?" Her voice was strained.

"That was your idea. Last lesson for today."

"Teacher, I'll _fall_."

"Bullshit." Heinkel smiled to herself. That would teach her a lesson. Victoria complained all the way, but Heinkel didn't listen. Only when she thought the girl would really break down, she let go. Victoria crashed on all fours, panting. "What the hell was that?", she finally managed.

"No idea what you mean. You _asked _me to teach you."

"I don't think that really helped!", she spat.

"Want to have another go?"

Victoria looked at her with big eyes and shook her head. "No!" Heinkel smiled and turned to go. She was already half the way back when Victoria asked: "How do you do that?"

Heinkel stopped. She didn't bother to turn around. "Do what?"

"Walk like that." The paladin looked down. Her feet in heavy protective boots on the gable of the orphanage. Nothing unusual. Still, Victoria sounded like she thought her teacher was from Mars. "This is a gable that's like, seven inches wide? We're about ten meters up? And you look like... like you're taking a walk in the park!"

"Oh. That." Heinkel thought about it for a moment. The girl was right. It _should _be unusual. Just... it wasn't. "Well, it feels like that to me."

"The height isn't bothering you at all?"

"Nope." And, just to provoke the kid, she cartwheeled, her fingers closing around the point of the roof. She felt the weight of her guns pressing on the straps holding them in place. Air rushed under her coat. Then she landed on her feet again, easily balancing her weight. The coat fell back in place. That's what it was made for. Fighting.

Killing. The thought wiped the grin off her face.

Victoria had sat down, her feet on the descending tiles. She had gotten her breath back.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?", Heinkel asked. Victoria didn't answer. The paladin shrugged her shoulders and turned to go. "Fine. Either way, you've got to pull yourself together. Now let's go before Father Anderson gets suspicious."

"You have no idea!", Victoria growled, her voice wavering. _Ah, crap. I'm a paladin, not a psychologist. _Still, Heinkel returned and sat down beside her protegee. She lit a cigarette and automatically offered her partner the package. Victoria looked from it to her and back. "I'm thirteen," she said. She hesitated, then extended her hand to take one anyway. That moment, Heinkel drew back the package. "Right. What was I thinking? I forgot you're still a kid."

Vicky glared at her. "You're making fun of me again."

"Paladins shouldn't be pussies. Deal with it."

"Yeah. Whatever." She looked away. A gust of wind blew her smoke in the face. Which was weird, since it wasn't windy at all. The smell made her eyes water. Victoria started coughing. "Jesus Christ, and you do that for _fun_?"

"See, I just spared you a bad habit." Victoria didn't smile like she had hoped. God, this was so annoying. Hunting terrorists was so much more fun than dealing with a kid. "Okay, I get it. You're pissed. Get over it."

Victoria turned her head away. She was probably crying and Heinkel suddenly regretted her harsh words. She was just a young girl. She deserved a childhood. "What do you know?", Victoria hissed. "You're not an orphan! You didn't see your parents turned into monsters and then killed by people bringing you wherever afterwards!"

Heinkel remembered the feeling of steel in her hand, the weight of the gun, the stench of blood. Noise and screams. But maybe she was confusing it with what came later. Dozens of missions with all of this. But what she knew exactly was the fear, the confusion, the helplessness. "You're right." She inhaled again, blew the smoke to the stars and looked after the smoke painting patterns against the darkness and orange light of the street lamps far away. The taste wasn't very good, of course not. Who ever said that was a liar. But everybody needed something like that. To cope with all the pressure. To go on. "Of course I don't know how that might be. The vampires didn't bother turning my parents. They just killed them." Victoria stared at her, open-mouthed, the tears still on her cheeks. Heinkel looked at the sky. Mostly void, partially stars. "And when they went after me, I shot them."

Victoria suddenly was very pale in the orange glow. _"Shot _them?Howold were you?"

"Six. The gun belonged to my parents. They gave it to me as protection."

"But- But you have parents! You talked about them! They're in Germany," Vicky stuttered.

Heinkel didn't pay attention to her. "Paladin Francesca Bellini was in the vicinity. She saved me. Brought me here so Father Anderson could watch over me. A year later, my foster parents brought me back home. Home like the country I was born in. They're not bad people. Really. They were good parents and I have a super-cool little sister. They just don't understand why I chose this path. Truth is, I didn't. The vampires did."

"Oh," Vicky whispered.

They were silent for a while. Then, Heinkel shrugged. "Damn. Don't ever make me go all chick flick again, okay? Point is, you're not the only one who lost somebody. You're pissed. I understand that. I was. Still am sometimes. But tell you what – and this sounds like a bad movie quote – if you don't control your anger, you will die in your first real battle."

"When will that be?" Was she even listening to what Heinkel said?

The paladin got up. "Hopefully far in the future. I should never have dragged you into this in the first place, but too late is too late. Let's go."

They went back to the descent. Victoria was visibly shaking and almost slipped a few times. Heinkel went first, her half-smoked cigarette still between the lips. She jumped more than climbed and landed softly on her feet on the grass. It was very dark here. The street lights were blocked off by the building. Victoria looked down and hesitated. "I'm not sure if I can do that," she whispered.

"Then I guess you'll have to sleep up there. Goodnight." Heinkel turned and walked away.

Not very far, though. She sat on the fringe of a vegetable bed and finished her cigarette while watching Victoria shakily climb down. The girl fell the last half meter and collapsed on the ground. Heinkel smiled to herself. The girl would feel stiff and aching for days, giving Heinkel enough time to go on a little hunt. Yumie was probably going crazy with boredom. Getting her shouldn't be a problem. Everybody knew Director Kerr was too ill to really lead Iscariot. A lot of people – also from the other sections - had been speculating on his successor for half a year now.

Victoria got to her feet again. Heinkel stomped out the cigarette and put it in a trash can standing near the back door. She wasn't even allowed to smoke on the orphanage grounds. The least she could do was being orderly. But on the other hand she wasn't even allowed to wear her guns and look how that worked out.

Victoria caught up to her. "Teacher?" They stopped. It was pitch black here, except for the sky lit up by stars and the far away lights of the city. Victoria hugged her. "Thank you." Heinkel was too flustered to react. "Uhm... No problem, I guess." The girl had stopped crying. She was strong-willed and talented. The perfect paladin. And just as difficult and unstable.

"You'll go to hell," Heinkel stated. "We all do. That's the great mystery nobody talks about. But we know. We know."

Victoria shook her head, her face still buried in Heinkel's shirt. "I don't care. I can't think of anything else I could do."

"Fair enough."

Victoria let go. In the same movement, she tried to pull one of the guns from its holster. It didn't work. She just pulled at the straps holding it in place. Heinkel grinned and opened the safety clip. Victoria made an adorable little noise of surprise when she felt the weight of this deadly piece of technology in her hands. She raised it in the air and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Heinkel sighed and took the gun out of her hand again. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I don't know," Vicky growled.

"Never do that again without my permission, get it?" Victoria growled something. "Good. When I come back, I'll teach you – if Father Anderson isn't here. I'm warning you now, we'll start small, okay? And the first part is always theory."  
"Theory is boring!", Vicky complained.

"You never know-"

"- what can save your life. Yeah." Victoria shrugged. "Whatever." Something growled in the darkness. "Oh hell, I'm hungry."

"That's your own fault. You didn't have to sit on the room half the night. Now let's go." They slipped into the orphanage with Heinkel's key and the paladin brought her student to her room. She was currently alone there because they didn't have so many children just now. If that changed, they would have a problem. "Night." Without waiting for an answer, Victoria closed her door.

_present time_

"Teacher?"

"What?"

"When can we go hunting?"

Heinkel shrugged. That girl would never stop bugging her. "When I find a fitting opportunity."

She had expected another complaint because of the vague promise, but Victoria beamed. "Okay."

Four years. Four years of secret training. That Enrico was chief now had helped her a lot. So had Father Renaldo. And as annoying as Victoria Caine might be, Heinkel just couldn't dislike her.

Would it have felt like this to have a child of her own?


	4. Livin' after midnight

**Chapter 3: Livin' after midnight**

_Hellsing mansion, outside London, September 3rd, 2016_

Caitlyn stared at the clouded sky outside the panorama windows. What the hell was going on the last months? The vampires ran wild, so much even Mira and Walter were surprised about it. They called them "impudent youth". Caitlyn couldn't judge this and didn't really want to, either. The latest incidents were just the tip of the iceberg, although Mira's nightly enthusiastic "walks" had saved them a scandal more than once. But now the problem was spreading. First that vampire priest who had killed almost a whole village and a lot of police officers. That had been in early July. Then the two vampire teens just a week ago. It was like somebody was _producing _vampires.

And now the business with the Vatican. If she was honest with herself, the treaty concerning Northern Ireland didn't mean much to her. Fighting over religion was outdated. Only terrorists did that and they were idiots. But this Alexander Anderson had killed two of her men, because she had been too confused to act. Only Mira had saved her. Caitlyn couldn't forgive these murders. She needed to decide on a suiting reaction. The Vatican couldn't just do what they wanted.

_Iscariot..._, she thought, frowning. _There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. _She was still getting used to all of this. Vampires, alright. But conspiracies? Secret agencies fighting each other? That was like out of a bad crime novel.

She had things to do. But she couldn't focus. Now of all times, her feelings got in her way. Caitlyn pressed the button for the internal communication system. "Walter?" She didn't need to wait more than a few seconds before he stepped out of the shadows. Having a vampire butler was useful in every way she could imagine. Well, not every way, maybe.

"Yes Sir?" Caitlyn still had to smile about being called a sir. Why couldn't there be a _Lady _Hellsing? But Walter had explained it was the family title and would never be changed. So Caitlyn grudgingly accepted it. How stupid all those old rules were.

Walter was a good butler, all in all. Even after five years she sometimes found herself fascinated by how good he made old-fashioned vest and tie look. He was attractive, and funny and...

His high-pitched voice made it difficult for outsiders to take him seriously. But Caitlyn knew what he was. What he could do. She was glad he was on her side.

"Caitlyn?"

She snapped out of her thoughts. "Right. Sorry. I drifted off. I... wanted to ask you something."

He stood there in front of her desk, silently waiting, like a good butler would. "Of course."

She stood up. Sitting behind her desk made her feel like a bureaucrat. She stopped in front of him. "Walter... what do you think about love?"

He stared at her with those bright red eyes without understanding. "Huh?"

Caitlyn paced up and down in front of her desk. "Just... wondering. What do you think?"

Walter sat down and lit himself a cigarette, ignoring her frown. "I'm pretty sure you're asking the wrong person."

Caitlyn took the cigarette out of his hand and put it out. She was tired of telling him he should go outside for that. "Just say what you think. Normally you always do that."

Walter glared at her. "Monsters don't love."

She stopped her pacing. "Really?" They were so much older than her. So much more experienced. They laughed about inflicting pain. Taking lives was so easy for them. So delightful. And still...

She shuddered. "No, thanks. Real vampires don't sparkle." Again that laugh. So sweet. Not the least innocent. Caitlyn wondered. Was she crazy, feeling like that? Probably. "Are you so sure? Aren't you feeling something?"

He glanced at her and tilted his head. Except for the red eyes he was just a child. An attractive child, though. "What do you mean?" He looked uneasy. Walter never looked uneasy. She had found a sore spot, it seemed. "I told you. We're monsters. We cannot love. You should ask a human."

"I'm asking who I want and that is you right now." He didn't answer, only crossed his arms in front of his chest. _So?_

"How does a kid like you become a vampire anyway?"

"I'm not a bloody kid!", he said sternly, barely concealing his rage. He hated being called a child. Caitlyn could understand that. She hated being belittled, too. She sat down beside him.

"Tell me. That was an order."

Walter glared at her. Then he stubbed out the cigarette. "Bollocks."

_Hellsing mansion, September 1944_

When Walter had gone to bed, everything had seemed normal. Well, except he was hurting all over. That werewolf. A fucking true werewolf, who would have guessed that? That arsehole had beat him around the place like he was just a toy. It was so undignified.

He was glad to finally be home again. If he never went back to Poland, he could be happy. It was a good feeling to finally lie in his own bed. New Year was approaching fast and Germany's defeat would be sealed in 1945. Of course nobody would ever know what role Walter and the vampire called Alucard had in it. The Hellsing organization might be praised. Arthur Hellsing. But never them. They were just the weapons.

Walter turned around and closed his eyes. It was bright day outside. The light was seeping through the curtains. But even though he was dead tired after the fighting and long plane rides... Why did he think of Alucard? She was just a child in her current form. Just a child like him.

Not exactly like him. He was 14, that could hardly still be counted as a child. And the vampire was so much older. Hundreds of years. Forever beautiful, huh?

He grumbled and turned around again. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Can't sleep?" He jerked upright. God, how much he hated that! She could just pop up anywhere.

That would be so useful.

The vampire had changed her clothes to black, without the hat and coat. She sat on a chair, legs crossed and a cigarette in hand. Now she stubbed it out and came over to him.

"What the hell are you doing?", Walter asked and instinctively moved an inch closer to the wall. The vampire sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You asked me about my old life. I thought you might want to hear about it if you can not sleep anyway." Walter didn't know what had happened. There seemed to be a blackout in his head for five seconds. The next moment his head was lying on the vampire's lap and she was stroking his hair.  
"What the fuck-", he mumbled. Was she hypnotizing him? He was barely able to move his body. It felt heavier than ever. His eyes fell shut and he only heard the soft voice of the vampire, with this almost inaudible accent.

"Arthur calls me Alucard. A ridiculous ananym. _They_ called me vampire queen. Lady Dracula. But... my true name was just Vladimira. Mira, to my friends. Not that I had many of those. No one ever called me that again since my childhood."

"Mira?", Walter managed. God, he was so tired. The voice was soothing, dampening his thoughts. If Mira answered he didn't know. He had fallen asleep.

Walter awoke and it was night. That wasn't a big surprise. His burning throat was. He got out of bed, much more awake than usual after a long sleep and toddled, yawning, to the mirror. Somewhere had to be light coming from, because he could see everything clearly in the darkness. He stretched and splashed water in his face. He tasted something in the corner of his mouth. Blood? He had washed when he came home, but it was possible it was still a remain of the fight. There had been a lot of blood. Mostly his own. Fucking werewolf.

When Walter looked into the mirror, he met blood-red eyes.

He jumped back. "Hey! That's not funny!" Alucard – Mira? - loved playing such pranks. But his reflection just had the exact same look of anger and surprise. Walter stepped closer again. His tongue brushed over his teeth. _No! NO!_

He grinned at the mirror, fangs blinking in the soft light. "No!", he croaked. He spun when there were steps. But they passed outside. His hearing was enhanced, he figured.

"She can't do that!" That fucking vampire! This bitch! How could she dare turning him!

A wave of panic swept over him. This made him an enemy. Alucard was one thing, but him... He had sworn his loyalty to the Hellsing family, but that didn't include waking up as a vampire. And Arthur was not a man to hesitate if it came to his duty. If there was the slightest risk of him becoming a danger...

He opened the window and cold night air rushed in. Somewhere in his head, the question _Why?_ ran around. Why would Mira do that if it was obvious the Convention of 12 would never allow it? Did she want to get rid of him? Did she... suspect something? _Hell, now Millennium is not my problem anymore. _

"Where are you going? And why don't use the door?" Walter almost fell from the windowsill. Mira had just turned up out of the shadows again. She stood near the door as far as he knew.

"Why?", he asked. He was close to attacking her. But that would be dumb. She was too strong.

"Hm?", she asked. As if nothing happened. That goddamn vampire bitch had the nerve to play innocent.

"Why did you do this to me?"

She sounded more confused than ever. "Walter, what happened?" He almost laughed. All of a sudden she sounded worried. Like a monster like her had any real feelings. He turned and looked at her, teeth gritted to show the new fangs.

"What happened? You killed me." The look of shock on her face made his theory waver. She couldn't fake that, could she? It was the first time he ever saw her really surprised.

Walter turned around and jumped. He landed on his feet with ease, and completely soundless. The power, the speed his body was able to achieve all of a sudden. It was marvellous.

He ran, not looking back at the mansion he had spent most of his former life in.

_Bradmarket, a small village in northern England, 1945_

The man wasn't very conspicuous. Not at all. Middle-aged, fairly tall, brown hair, no obvious scars, nothing unusual. Except for the limping, of course. But Walter was sure that was faked to escape going to war. Not even his victims would have been able to describe him.

The man called the "Meadow Killer" had chosen his next victim. The woman he was following didn't even pay attention to him. Nobody did. That was why he had escaped unnoticed all those years. And he was careful. Devilish clever.

Walter stayed where he was, on the roof of a nearby house. He just needed to wait.

One year. One year of being on the run from his own family. Or what he had perceived as his family. Of course, Hellsing wasn't his family. He was a servant. A weapon. A mean to achieve a goal. And now he was an enemy. Sometimes it had been very close. Mira was good.

_Alucard. Her name is Alucard!_, he chided himself.

The real joke was that he couldn't even leave Great Britain. Without a coffin and money for the ferry he couldn't cross the water. The war was over by now, but how would he accomplish that?

But at least he was getting stronger. Human blood had that effect. The candidates were carefully picked. He wasn't disloyal to the English Crown. His giving in to his spite in Warsaw... It had been a mistake the turning had saved him from. _Always think positive_, he thought bitterly.

By now he was sure Vladimira hadn't been the one who turned him. Her surprise had been too genuine. A vampire like her had no need to put on an act. Whoever the woman had been – after the rules concerning a vampire it had to be a woman -, she had turned him, fed him human blood and hers as well while he was still unconscious, and just disappeared without leaving a trace. Otherwise he would have been her student, sharing a telepathic bond or something like that. Walter wished he had paid a little more attention to what Alucard and Sir Arthur had said about this.

The Meadow Killer followed the woman in a dark walkway between two houses. Walter wondered about a lot of things lately. One of it was, how stupid people actually were. The woman knew there was a killer on the loose. How innocent could you be?

And the Meadow Idiot himself? He hadn't been caught yet, that was true. Even Walter had taken a while to track him down. But really, what kind of name was that? He believed himself to be Jack the Ripper, writing letters signed with that name. There was no meadow around for miles. Imbecile.

The shadows concealed them from human eyes, but Walter saw just fine. The woman glanced back for the first time and looked uneasy now. It was obvious why he had picked her. She was young. Pretty. _Would make a good Draculina_, Walter thought. He was strong enough to do that by now. It would mean he didn't have to be alone anymore.

The Meadow Idiot caught up to the woman and grabbed her arm. She stopped, her body rigid. Didn't think of screaming of course. The victims never did. People tended to think they were invincible. Then he clasped one hand over her mouth and it was too late. The only thing was a high-pitched, dampened shriek no one would ever hear. Except for Walter of course.

She tried to break free, but the man was stronger. Then she kicked him in the shin, burrowed one elbow in his kidneys and threw her head back. The Meadow Idiot groaned and staggered back, doubled over and his nose bleeding. The woman took a few steps back, considering if she should run or fight. Walter was honestly impressed.

"Go, Lady. Leave him to me." Walter tried to make his voice deeper. He hated it. This wailing voice of a little boy. Would he forever be trapped within the body of a child?

The Meadow Idiot straightened up and looked around. So did the woman. "Who are you?", the man growled. "Show yourself!"

"Just go, Miss. I'm sure you have somewhere to be by now. Don't look back." During the last words, his voice suddenly leaped to its normal high pitch. Crap.

The woman took a step back. "Be careful. And thank you, my knight," she added with a smile. Then she turned and returned on her way in a relaxed jog. What a lady.

The Meadow Idiot meanwhile had begun to laugh. "You're just a kid! Hey! You stay there!" He lunged after the woman, surprisingly quick for someone of his physique. Wires wrapped around his wrists and yanked him back before he got even close. He stopped dead, barely staying on his feet. Walter jumped to the ground. The man could only see a slender figure in the darkness extending slightly blue glistening wires. And glowing red eyes.

The Meadow Idiot looked him up and down. Then he began to laugh. Walter stared at him, dumbfounded. "What's so funny, you cunt?", he hissed, not bothering to change his voice.

"You're a vampire, huh? A vampire child, more exact. That's lovely!"

Walter gritted his teeth. "You're an enemy of the British crown and an abomination before God!"

The man just laughed harder. "You call me an abomination?" Walter could barely keep himself from just cutting off the bastard's hand.

"I never had a choice! But you're doing this because you're a sick bastard!" That wail again. He despised it. Despised it more than anything.

The man grinned like the maniac he was. "Really? Because seeing how good you are, you have a lot of experience. Tell me again, how sick I am, while you enjoy it just as much. You're going to cut off my hand and my screams will delight you. You will kill me. That's square. Wouldn't want to spend a lifetime in prison. I've had my fun. But don't you dare to claim you are better than me, vampire!"

Walter stared at him. This ridiculous, fat, almost bald man, this psychopath...

had a point.

He did enjoy his work. It was for his queen and country, of course. Or had been. Slaughtering all those enemies. The Nazis in Warsaw especially. But he couldn't argue that he enjoyed fighting. It was what he lived for, after all. Had lived. Now he didn't exactly _live_ for it anymore, obviously.

"You know what? You're right. But you're also some psycho who targets women just for fun."

The so-called Meadow Killer shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? It is like it is."

Walter wanted to finish it, but hesitated. "One last question. Why Meadow Killer? That's a pretty stupid name. There's no meadow around for miles."

He smiled. "My first victim was my neighbour. Daisy Meadow."

"Oh," Walter said. "That makes sense. Then you can burn in hell now." The wires cut through flesh and bones without the slightest resistance. With a wet thud the hands fell on the ground. After a moment blood rushed out of the stumps.

The Meadow Idiot howled in agony and dropped to his knees. But he was still grinning. Walter caught the blood before it touched the ground. Droplets ran along the wires. It was easier than just letting all that hot, strong liquid float. Mira had done this more than once. Drinking all of it. A stream. A river. It was creepy, if you thought about it. "This is it," the man giggled. "This is it."

Walter paid no attention to him. He was still practising this trick. But he wanted it all. Every last drop. He needed his strength.

Something was fighting against him. Drawing some of the blood away from him.

"You have become stronger. Impressive." Walter whirled and almost stumbled over the corpse of the hapless killer. Mira smiled at him. She looked the same like that night, when Walter ran for his (un-)life. "You don't look happy to see me."

Plans were rushing through his head. The bloody bastard. It had taken too long to track him down. And Mira had found him. She had him in plain sight. Running was useless. There was nowhere to go, even if he made it away from her. "Sir Arthur is waiting."

"What, you don't have orders to kill me on sight?", he asked sarcastically.

Mira – _Alucard. Her name is Alucard._ \- tilted her head. "No. How do you get that idea?"

"I'm a vampire."

"So am I."

"I'm a deserter."

"Possible. Yes, actually, you are right. Still, I have orders to bring you back. Sir Arthur is wondering 'what the hell happened to my butler'." She smiled again. Just a cute little girl.

"I can't run, right? You won't let me."

"Why should you want to?"

"Right," he murmured.

"Can you fly already?"

"Never tried."

"Then it is about time." She strode up to him like nothing had happened and took his hand. Walter was very well aware that she could kill him easily, even without a gun. But he had no choice. They rose up in the air and soon the landscape was rushing along under them.

_Hellsing mansion, outside London_

"So, you're finally back. It's been a while, Walter."

"Yes, Sir," he murmured.

"You look different. Something with your hair?" Sir Arthur laughed. "Look at me when I talk to you, boy." Walter looked up and met Arthur's blue eyes. Sir Arthur Hellsing smiled at him, mockingly, like he always had. "I don't want excuses or anything. Just tell me what happened the night you ran away."

"I went to bed. When I woke up, I was a vampire."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

"What about Alucard here? You were together, right?"

"Right. We talked."

Arthur grinned in an I-don't-believe-you-way. But he didn't dig further into that aspect. "Fine. What happened after you woke up?"

Walter retraced what he had done up to the point where Mira entered and he fled. Arthur, his grin gone, nodded. "Any idea who did this? Alucard here assures me she had nothing to do with it and also didn't notice anything until you woke up."

"I searched, but no. I don't know who did it."

"Good. Then let's get to work."

"Huh?", said both Walter and Vladimira.

Arthur stood up. "You are servants to the Hellsing family. Walter, I expect you to resume your services as a butler. As to you, Alucard..." Walter had a sudden feeling of dread, like a cloud obscuring the sun. "I value your services highly, you know that. I also never doubted your absolute loyalty. Unfortunately the Convention does not believe in this loyalty. They voted for a security option."

"What security option?" It was Walter who asked this. Would she have to go? The thought made him uneasy. They had seen each other for the first time in one year tonight, but still...

Arthur was pacing up and down, hands locked tightly behind his back. "They are worried about what you might do in times of peace. They didn't listen when I tried to tell them you are absolutely loyal to me. So we will lock you up until your services are needed again. I already consulted the books of my ancestors and-"

"That's not fair!", Walter interrupted. "You can't just put her away like a toy, until you need it again!" Mira laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Her pretty face was blank. She was in her true form again. A beautiful countess, tall, with pale skin and dark hair, clothed in an armour. She had been feared by her people. The warrior countess. The vampire queen. No one dared to oppose Vladimira Tepec.

"Oh, do you think so?", Arthur said quietly. His gaze was hard. "Because I think I can do just that. You're my servants. You obey. No questioning." Walter suppressed a growl and looked at his shoes. This couldn't be! Why didn't Mira say anything? She could not want this.

She must not want this.

"The sigils will allow only a member of the Hellsing bloodline to open the tomb. You will sleep and not feel anything, Alucard." Arthur sighed. "The Convention decided this and I cannot oppose them anymore. The queen gave her consent. I'm sorry." He went to the door. "I will wait downstairs." With that, he left the room.

"This is it, then," Mira said. "We won't fight together anymore." A mocking smile crossed her face. "Pity. I looked forward to see what you can do now."

Walter stared at his feet. And now? "Hm."

"'Hm'? That's the last thing you say to me?"

He met her eyes. His own blue was gone. Red like hers they were now. "What should I say, then?"

Mira shrugged her shoulders. "You know, Sir Arthur met a woman. I think he really does love her. Either way, he's worried that I might hurt her."

"You mean that she'll get jealous of your immortality."

"There is no true immortality, Walter. How often do I have to tell you?"

"So he just locks you up. After all you did for this family, this is just wrong." He didn't say any of the words he applied to Sir Arthur at this moments. He was still his loyal butler.

"Is this really about me?", Mira asked. She grinned. "Or is little Walter scared of being alone?"

"Shut up!", he hissed. "You-" He broke off when Mira suddenly hugged him. Walter froze. He was tall for a boy his age, but she was taller. Her hair hung in his face. What an awkward hug. He never wanted to move again. "I'll wait," he promised. "No matter how long. I have the time now, don't I?"

"There is-"

"I don't care if it's long enough." The armour scratched against his skin. Only a few years before her, Joan of Arc had been burned at the stake for "cross-dressing". But that had been the Catholics.

"Goodbye, Walter," she said softly. "And thank you for being my partner."

"Goodbye, Mira. You... you too." He stepped back, suddenly embarrassed, and tried to think of something to say. Something important or meaningful.

Mira turned around. "We better don't let Sir Arthur wait."

_present day_

"Walter?"

He snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh?"

Caitlyn had her cheek propped up on her hand. "You were quiet a while. What happened after that?"

Walter looked at her blankly. "After what?" What had he told her? He didn't remember when he stopped talking.

"Do vampires get dementia? Sir Arthur said "As to you, Alucard..." and then you just broke off. I sat here for at least five minutes. Where were you with your thoughts?"

He tried not to show his relief. Some things didn't concern her at all. "Sorry, Sir. ...Lady?"

Caitlyn smiled when she heard this. Walter went on. "Sir Arthur decided – the Convention of 12 decided, actually – to lock Mira up. They thought she was too dangerous. Security option, they called it." He couldn't keep a growl out of his voice. Seventy years. Seventy bloody years.

"And she stayed down there until those guys turned up and dragged me here." He nodded. Caitlyn looked at him for a moment. Then she frowned. "Say, after all the other family members died, were you here all the time?"

"Most. Not when I was hunting," he answered carefully. Uh-oh. "I mean, I would never have let them kill you or anything-"

Caitlyn waved a hand. "You were there. Even while that arsehole cut me."

"You needed to open the tomb!", Walter defended himself. He didn't see the point of this whole conversation. And why did Caitlyn look at him like that? Like she was trying to make up her mind.

"Did you ever find out?"

The sudden change of topic left him confused. "Huh?"

"You already said that once," Caitlyn said, a sudden dullness in her voice. "I mean who turned you. Did you find her?"

"Oh, that. No. Left without leaving a trace."  
"With Mira around that was probably for the best. If it wasn't her after all."

"It wasn't!", Walter said immediately.

Caitlyn just smiled and nodded. She looked sad. What the hell was going on here? He wished he could just read her thoughts like Mira. But his duty as a butler was to serve, not to question. Sometimes that pissed him off so much. "Why would somebody do it then? I don't get it."

"Sir, I've been trying to solve this for seventy years."

She shrugged. "Might as well give it a try." She took his hand, just for a moment. On her bare arms he could see the scar from five years ago. He looked at her, unsure of what to do. She had behaved weird the last weeks, even before she was almost killed by this Alexander Anderson. Walter hadn't been there, but it was obvious she blamed the death of her agents on herself.

_Not only the fucking Vatican of all people, now they even have a bloody regenerator. _There was trouble to come. He felt it. Blood, death and fighting. And he looked forward to it. Being eternally young had its perks. Never getting useless.

"Are you sure about what you said? About love?", Caitlyn asked. Her blue eyes were absent.

"Monsters don't love. They can't."

She let go of him. "Thank you. You can go now." Walter nodded and got the hell out of there.

Caitlyn stared into space for several minutes. This was so ridiculous. As the head of the Hellsing family (What family? There was only her, Walter, and Mira.) she should be able to control herself better. She had been thrown into this and it was too much. It wasn't fair.

_Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown_. How true. _God damn it!_

Walter was much older than her. If it wasn't for his... - what, curse? - he would be an old man now. Eighty-seven years of age. Immortals and mortals never had a chance. Only two immortals had. Maybe. Who was she to oppose this? _Age and youth cannot live together._

Caitlyn stood up and walked over to her desk. She pressed the buttons for the intern communication and dialled the number. "Mira. Come to my office, please." There had to be something in her voice today. Mira was there in a matter of seconds, just appearing from the floor. "Yes, Master?"

Caitlyn sat on the edge of her desk. "This might be a bit of an odd question, but what do you think about love?"

Mira tilted her head. She wore a white suit with a scarf today. "That is indeed an odd question."

"Walter said 'Monsters cannot love'."

"He is right. That's why they are monsters."

"I don't believe you. What about you and Walter?"

_Love sought is good, but given unsought better, _she thought.

Mira frowned. "We're monsters. Master, what do you want?" Caitlyn looked past her. What _did _she want? Maybe having a moral higher ground. Finishing something before it brought her down. She already was, probably. Why did he have to be so charming? In a rebellious, swearing, crazy way.

"You two need to talk. You will go now and do just that."

"About what?"

Caitlyn spun and slammed her hands on the desk. It was hard to keep her voice down, but she didn't want anyone – Walter or the guards – to hear this. "I don't know." She laughed. It sounded hysterical. "Just so you two stop eyefucking each other. You immortals may have all the time you want, but I like to settle things _asap_."

_I wasted time, and now doth time waste me._

"Master, I really don't know-" Caitlyn stomped to the door, dragging Mira with her. The confused vampire didn't struggle, but they got a lot of curious glances from the guards. They went down the corridor to Walter's room. The sun was almost up. Caitlyn was dead tired and there were still things to do before the other members of the so-called Convention of 12 arrived this evening.

She shoved Mira to the door. "Go." The vampire looked at her. "That's an order."

Mira nodded slowly. Then she turned and walked through the door without knocking. Or opening it. Caitlyn heard Walter ask what she was doing. Mira's answer was too quiet to be heard by human ears. There was a conversation going on. Caitlyn turned and walked back the way she had come, leaving Walter and Mira to whatever they did.

Better go to bed. Having a butler was useful, but she hated the straight rules and manners of the so-called nobility. She was able to get everything done herself. But first she needed sleep. Fucking conferences. She could see why the Convention needed to know – especially about the chips. But she was busy enough right now.

She stopped and leaned against the wall, eyes closed and the shaking hands pressed against the cold stone. She had the vague feeling of having done the right thing, but that didn't make the pain any easier. Damn it. God-bloody-damn it

"Sir, are you alright?" She opened her eyes and looked at a young guard. He couldn't be much older than eighteen. Walter had taken care of employing their guards when she was too overwhelmed by her new position five years ago. She remembered faces, but no names. The commander was called Flint Havel. _Hell, I'm a horrible leader. _

"Sir?", the boy stuttered. Caitlyn suddenly realized she was crying. Her face was wet. She gratefully took the handkerchief the boy offered her. "Thank you. I'm sorry, but what's your name?"

"Joshua Radley."

"Joshua. Okay." She smiled shakily. "Everything clear this night?"

"Yes, Sir."  
"Good. Good," she repeated. "Keep it up. I'm glad to have good personnel like you."

He hesitated. "Can I help you in any other way, Sir?"

"No, thanks. I'm going to bed. But wait... Actually yes. If you meet Walter, tell him to prepare the conference room. And the shift on duty this evening will have to do a security check before the Convention members arrive."

Radley saluted. "Yes, Sir!"

"Good. Bye."

The boy looked at her, unsure what to do. "Bye, Sir," he said with a question mark in his voice. Caitlyn walked down the corridor to her room. Fucking conferences indeed. The Convention of 12 would want to have a complete report not only on her involuntary meeting with Alexander Anderson, but also on the vampire priest. Caitlyn had avoided that for as long as possible. But now the problems were piling up. _Delays have dangerous ends. I should have remembered that._

She didn't need her hormones getting in the way, too.

* * *

Hope you liked it.

For those who want to know what happened in Badrick, check out the spin-off "The countess' dream". ;)


	5. Fifteen years gone

**Chapter 4: Fifteen years gone**

_Iscariot HQ, Rome, April 20th, 2016_

It was silent in the HQ, even more than usual. Probably because it was late evening. Heinkel knocked. "Enrico?"

"Yes?" He didn't sound the least tired. She entered. The business with Hellsing was still unfinished and the Vatican wanted answers. Anderson was in the orphanage with Yumiko. He wouldn't go on any mission soon. Not until this was solved. The representatives of the Pope – and that was interesting; the Pope himself didn't make a statement – doubted Enrico's ability to control Anderson. Bureaucrats that had no idea what fighting was like. All Heinkel had for those people was a sneer.

Enrico typed something in. "Just a second." Then he looked up from his laptop. "So I'm not the only one still up. How can I help you?" He made a vague gesture to one of the chairs, but Heinkel didn't want to sit down. Her hands lay on the hafts of her guns. It just felt more comfortable like that.

She hadn't been sure herself about what she would say. Instead of saying anything, she just laid a newspaper article on his desk. It was from a German newspaper, but she had translated it on a separate sheet.

Enrico read it, then looked at the photo. It showed a small shop, surrounded by the police, and a photo of a slender redheaded man. Eventually, Enrico leaned back and looked at her. For now, his face was unreadable, but she had a good idea what he thought. This might get tough.

"What do you want?"

"I'll need a few days off."

"For making a statement at court?"

"No. They didn't invite me."

He frowned. "I thought this was about you."

Heinkel made a dismissive gesture. "I wouldn't go anyway. I need your help for something else."

"What would that be?", he asked. Heinkel was getting ever more cryptic. He didn't like that. If she didn't want to tell him as her chief, they were still friends, right?

"The counsel for the persecution has one main evidence, the surveillance vid from that day. If they can bring it forward, Wagner will get another five or six years for grievous bodily harm. Their system has had a few security breaches in the last months. It shouldn't be too difficult to hack it."

"You want me to hack a German court?" Heinkel could almost hear him bringing forward another rant about how irresponsible she was, what that could mean for the Vatican and so on. But he only said: "That's a bit far-fetched. Besides, who would want to steal the video just for preventing that guy from going to prison?"

Heinkel looked at him like he had lost his mind, despite being a bit surprised he was so calm. "You've got to be kidding. I _know _how good you are. And who said I want to help them? You need to remove that video."

Enrico looked at her, completely speechless. She had no idea about politics. She was a paladin, that wasn't her job. But _this_? "Heinkel, we can't risk a scandal right now. Not after Morocco and Badrick." Still, it would be interesting... He tried to get that thought out of his head immediately, but it was too late. Now he was curious. No matter how stupid this might be.

"There won't be a scandal. I promise. Just a few days. I'll visit my parents and settle this and everything goes on as it did before. Besides, I've got a lot of vacation days left."

_We all have. But we've got no time for that. _Enrico shrugged. "When is that trial?"

"The day after tomorrow. Are there any reports left over? I could do that, you know. So you can... concentrate on something else."

"We're not negotiating," he stated. What did she think? He wasn't horsetrading.

"So what do you say, then?" She had taken off her sunglasses and looked him dead in the eyes. He couldn't help but look at those white scars for a moment. Had he any choice? Heinkel was so stubborn, she would probably do something stupid. Another scandal could be the death sentence for Iscariot. He sighed. "Fine, I'll do it. But I need a few details. Like where that server is and where the video might be. You know, the case number or something like that."

Somehow he had hoped she wouldn't know. Deeper computer science was an own world after all. But she could give him enough to start. _Hacking into a foreign state institution. What am I thinking? _Not that this was the first time of course... but before there had only been himself on stake, not a whole organization. _His _organization. And the reputation of the Roman-Catholic Church. "Give me an hour and we'll see what I can do. But that's all. If not, then this is closed, understand?" Heinkel nodded, smirking. God, that girl could make you nuts with her carelessness. "Check those reports, yes? Oh and when you're already at it, can you get me a hot chocolate?"

When Heinkel returned after about one and a half hour, Enrico had his feet on the desk and the laptop on his legs. Not his working laptop, though. This one was smaller, more of a notebook, but much higher quality. The components were better, had more memory and whatever was part of a good laptop to use for hacking. Heinkel didn't know much about that. She needed a PC for writing and Internet, nothing more. A cable was plucked into the internet socket.

The chocolate was untouched and Enrico Maxwell looked a little tired now, but triumphant. It was the middle of the night and they were completely alone in the building. He had opened his ponytail and a few strands hung in his eyes. It made him look younger.

"I got it. They really need to fix their security."

Heinkel found herself to be really surprised. She was surprised about her surprise. When had _Enrico _ever given up when he was challenged? "How the _hell _did you do this?"

He yawned and managed to look offended at the same time. Though he was offended about something next to always. "A lot of technical stuff. A password generator, which is not exactly legal. Really, that would take too long to explain now." Heinkel sat down.

He sighed. "Okay, in short: First I looked up who's involved with that case and might have a copy of the video. Normally the courts and lawyers are careful with that. I searched all of their work computers that were part of the system. Actually it's still running, but I think I erased all copies from their servers. If somebody has one on a private hard drive that's all for nothing of course."  
"And it's possible to do that just over the Internet?"

He smiled. "You have no idea."

"Always expected the German Government to be a bit more careful. Makes you think."

"Actually, I wasn't even near any government server. The list of persons involved is on an official website pleading for this... Wagner?" He looked at her, wondering about the pronunciation. Heinkel nodded. "Anyway, that guy's conviction. And the law firm really needs to update their security. Any amateur could have done this."

"You're no amateur."

"Barely more." He looked at the still filled cup and took a sip from the now cold chocolate.

He was at least trying to be modest, Heinkel thought, internally smiling. As if that worked. She stood up. "It's late. We better go to sleep. Thanks." In her mind, she was already preparing details. If she worked hard, Enrico would have no choice but to grant her the days off.

"Heinkel."

She stopped. "Yeah?"

"I copied the video before I erased it. I thought you might want to see it." Enrico saw her freeze.

"Did you?" Her voice was flat and he shuddered inside. In such moments he remembered all too clearly that he was the weakest person in all of Iscariot. A sheep among wolves. And Heinkel definitely was one of the most dangerous wolves, bad name jokes aside.

Enrico wasn't sure why he had done it anyway. Probably because he was curious. After all the work he put in it he deserved to see the results. Heinkel had never said much about what exactly had happened on that day fifteen years ago. He only knew the basic facts. She and her foster mother had been in a shop robbery. The guys had killed a few people and Heinkel got a bullet through her cheeks, scarring her face for the rest of her life, before she shot two and injured the third one. That third one was on trial once again now, for deciding if he had shot the girl that would once become this dangerous paladin on accident or on purpose. Enrico wasn't sure who had reopened that case and it was obviously unimportant for Heinkel herself.

"Yeah, maybe we should do that," she said softly. "But I want Yumie to see this, too. I already called her."

He frowned. "When? Why?"

"I had a feeling you couldn't resist. I know you too well."

"Obviously," he murmured. Damn it. He hated being predictable. At the same time he wondered if it would be okay to tell Lisa later on.

Yumie arrived after five minutes of waiting. They got two chairs and sat on both sides of their chief. Just like it should be. "You sure about this?", he asked again. Heinkel nodded, looking more gloomy than ever. So Enrico pressed play. The time stamp said seventeenth December of 2001.

_Munich, Germany, December 17th, 2001_

The mall was packed with people frantically searching for Christmas presents. It wasn't the last-minute-panic yet, but close. Heinkel hated it. Too many people bumping into each other, ignoring the ridiculously high prices. She would rather stay home with her father and go shooting or something like that. But her step-mother, Elena, had insisted, like every year. Normally they went much earlier, though.

Elena dragged her into a jewellery shop. She was searching for a necklace or something like that for her best friend. Heinkel hadn't paid attention. She never been interested in such things. Where was the point of spending so much money just to brag about it?

While outside the people were panicking like Christmas was this evening, Heinkel walked along the showcases on the right and stopped in front of various rings, gold, silver, with or without gemstones.

"You're a bit too young for marrying, huh?" She looked up and saw a young man with unruly dark hair and a nice smile. "Or have you got somebody in mind?"

"Yeah, no, not really" she said. "Just passing the time." She looked outside again and saw security guards whispering among themselves while three men clad in black ploughed through the people. She turned and searched for Elena's obvious red hair. "Mum? Mum!" There had to be something in her voice, because Elena turned and immediately came over. "What? Something wrong?"

Before Heinkel could answer, the door slammed open, breaking one of the showcases. A shot crunched into the ceiling. "Everybody on the ground, this is a robbery!"

There was some kind of collective gasp mixed with a scream. Outside the people shied away from the shop. Then Heinkel lost track because she was dragged down. She wasn't even scared. Just mildly surprised. If Elena hadn't dragged her to the ground with everybody else she would have just stayed where she was. Her mother was trembling and pressing Heinkel down with her weight.

There were three men, all trained, two rather massive, the third one slender. They wore Jeans and hoodies one could get in every corner shop for less than ten euro. All three were carrying assault rifles. If Heinkel was right, it was the FN FNC from Belgium. They were produced in the late seventies and these three were in a horrible shape. But that didn't mean they were less deadly.

They were wearing ski masks, but all seemed to be Caucasian. The first one had bight blue eyes and a booming voice. "Alright, everybody does what we say and nobody gets hurt. Get out behind that counter, Sir," he told the elderly owner of the shop. The man had trouble getting up. He was almost eighty and seemed to be in pain.

The second man briskly walked up to him and dragged him to his feet while the third pulled down the blends. "You!", the second man barked. "Open the safe!"

The first man had found the keys to the showcases and the cash register and began packing everything into a bag. They were all around twenty or thirty. Judging from their equipment this was an act of desperation and a badly planned one.

"I can't," the owner croaked. "There's a time lock on the safe. If it's not open, I can't do anything about that."

"Bullshit!" The second man slammed him against the counter. "You're the owner. You have a way of opening that thing."

The old man groaned in pain, but stayed upright. "You have to wait until the time lock opens. Then you can have everything. Just don't hurt anyone," he begged.

The man laughed and pressed a gun against the shop owner's temple. It was an old Beretta, Heinkel guessed. Why did she see only those things? "Are you trying to give us orders?", the robber grinned.

"N- No. I'm sorry!", the old man whispered.

"You better be, you old fag."

A young woman in a slightly too tight rose-coloured business costume tried to get into a more comfortable position. Immediately the second man put a gun to her head. She froze, tears in her eyes.

"Don't move until we tell you to! Don't even fucking blink!" He laughed again. It was raspy, a smoker's voice if Heinkel had ever heard one.

"Don't be stupid, Daniel!", the third one next to the entrance said. "Let the people sit up."

Daniel spun. "Are you stupid?! We said no names!"

"Don't call me stupid, idiot! You could have just acted as if it was a fake name!"

"Shut up, both of you!", the first one interrupted. "That doesn't bring us anywhere." He turned to the customers lying on the ground and anxiously observing them. "Alright, everybody sits up against those showcases. You five go over there, and you go over there." The hostages obeyed, always looking at them. As if it would help seeing the bullet coming.

Seen from the entrance, the following structure was established: The first man stood at the counter, his rifle slung over his shoulder. Daniel, Beretta in hand, stood in the middle and the third robber was next to the front windows, acting as a spy and guard.

On the sides were the hostages, leaning against the showcases. On the right were Heinkel, Elena, the young man that had talked to her earlier and the young woman in the too tight business costume. On the left sat a broad-shouldered man in a business suit, a young couple fearfully huddled together, the shop owner and an elderly man and woman, probably a couple, too. Plus three robbers, that were thirteen people in the shop. There were no tables or showcases in the middle of the room, so the robbers could shoot in every direction if they wanted.

The first man leaned against the counter and smiled at them. "Okay, as long as nobody tries anything funny, nobody gets hurt. You can call me..." Another smile while he thought about it. He had to be quite handsome under that mask. He sounded like a man the women liked. "Tobias," he said eventually. "And that guy is Francis." He pointed at the man near the door. Said man turned and glared at him. "Francis? Really?"

"Never heard of Francis Ford Coppola?"

Francis shook his head. Tobias shrugged and turned back, just to see Daniel pointing a gun at the head of the terrified owner. "What's the code for the safe? When does it open?"

The other hostages shrank back from the two men. The poor shop owner was panicking. "It's opening at 7 pm!", he whimpered. "Give me a paper, I'll write-"

"**7 PM**?!", Daniel roared. "It's fucking 9 o'clock in the morning! Are we supposed to sit around until the cops turn up and get us?"

"Too late," Francis said. "They cleared the mall. We're trapped."

"Calm down!" Tobias tried dragging him away, but not before Daniel kicked the owner against the leg. There was a sickening crack and the man screamed in pain. The woman in the business costume slapped her hand in front of her mouth and suppressed a scream.

Tobias pushed Daniel back. "Nobody gets hurt! That was our plan, idiot!"

Daniel wasn't listening. He was too busy panicking. "And what do we do then? Wait for their snipers?"

"They can't harm us for now. We have hostages. The blends are drawn and how the hell do you want to use snipers in a building? That was the whole point. But if we harm any of the hostages, they'll just charge in."

"The cops are standing there. One has a megaphone."

"See?!", Daniel cried. "We should have been out of here long ago!"

"We'll just have to make ourselves comfortable for a while. Mr. Kranz, are there toilets out back?"

The owner was close to being unconscious. The elderly woman holding him gently shook him. "Yes," he groaned.

"Will we die?", the young man with the nice smile whispered. He was crying. Daniel spun and pointed the Beretta at him. "You will if you don't shut up."

The man froze, paler than a ghost.

"Tobias?", Heinkel said. She didn't move. Daniel was the most dangerous of them. He was unstable and easy to anger. He was scared to death and such people did horrible things. But Tobias was the leader and he was reasonable. He looked at her and seemed to frown. "Yes, little girl?"

Heinkel accepted being called little girl just this once. "Mr. Kranz's leg is broken. At his age this is dangerous. It would be better to splint it and give him water or something like that." She tried to look as scared and innocent as possible. They mustn't see her as a threat. She wasn't anyway. Not against three opponents with guns and rifles. But she wasn't afraid. Deep inside, she was excited. Her hard training was paying off.

"You're right," Tobias said. "Do we have a doctor here?"

After a few seconds of silence the dark-haired young man next to Elena raised his hand. "I'm- I'm studying medicine. B-But I'll need h-help."

"I can do that," Heinkel said without hesitation. Her mother's fingers dug into her arm.

"No!", she whispered. "Don't! Please." Her blue eyes were wide with fear.

"I'm okay, Mum," Heinkel said. She waited until Tobias allowed them to stand up.

"What are your names?", he asked.

"Heinkel," she said. No nervousness, no fear. She was calm. Too calm, maybe.

"R-René," the young man stuttered. He knelt down beside the shop owner, Mr. Kranz, and almost fell. "We need to cut open the trousers."

"There are scissors on the counter," the elderly woman said. Tobias got them, and brought them over. He drew his hand back before René could take them. "Everybody back. The girl does it."

"For God's sake, she's just a kid!", the man in the business suit complained. "She'll faint or vomit."

Daniel ran at him and pointed the gun at his head. "Are you telling us what to do?"

The man paled. "N- No! Of course not!", he stuttered, white like a sheet.

"Good!" Daniel turned and strutted back to the middle of the room. Who the hell thought it to be a good idea to bring someone that paranoid to a robbery?, Heinkel thought.

Heinkel took the scissors. "Sorry about your trousers. Your name is Kranz?"

"Wolf Kranz, yes." The old man tried to smile. "I never thought my little shop would ever get robbed."

"Better late than never," Francis said and laughed. Heinkel ignored him. The blades were sharp and slid through the fabric with ease. The old man's skin was fish bone white and ranged by varicose veins. Daniel's boot had left a huge black mark on it. It also had smashed the bone. One part was sticking out front. Blood was pooling on the floor.

There was another of those collective gasps. Heinkel did her best to act as if she was getting sick. Most people seemed to, except René, the elderly woman, the robbers and herself. Mr Kranz was close to passing out again, deathly pale and covered in sweat.

"What do we need?", Tobias asked.

René closed his eyes for a moment. He hadn't even tried off his tears. Then he wiped his face. "A first aid kit. And water. Towels, bandages and disinfectant. And two stable rods or anything to fix it in place after I have relocated the bone." René looked pale, but now he knew what to do. "I'm sorry Mr Kranz, but this will probably hurt very bad. I need others to hold him. Heinkel, and you too, please." He looked at the elderly couple. "The others prepare everything we need."

"Are you giving us orders?", Daniel roared. He pushed Heinkel and René out of the way, waving his gun around. "Don't you die, you old arsehole! We still need you! Maybe later I free you from your pain." he pointed the gun at Kranz's head.

"Daniel, stop! You're not accomplishing anything!" Tobias tried to get him away. From the other people.

"Stop ordering me around!", Daniel howled. He tried to punch Tobias and missed. The gun went off. The bullet hit Kranz in the temple. Blood splashed on the young couple. They shrieked. It was a sound no one could easily forget. Heinkel got a few drops in the face. She could just stare at Kranz' lifeless body in the arms of the elderly woman. She had blood and brain in her face as well, her face frozen in a mixture of confused curiosity and shock.

Heinkel touched her face. The droplets were so hot it felt like they were burning in her cheeks. She wiped them off and looked at her now red fingertips.

Daniel jumped to his feet, his eyes wide. "Shit!", he shouted. "Shit!" And he was still waving the gun around. Tobias got him in a sleeper hold and dragged him back, but let go before he passed out. "Idiot! And what now?"

Francis looked through the blends and raised one hand. "Guys! The cops are moving."

_Rome, present day_

"The police started to negotiate," Heinkel explained. She was completely calm and that worried Enrico a bit. Okay, she had been there and from what he could see on the video, even the twelve-year-old Heinkel had had ice water in her veins. It was almost scary. Today she was an experienced paladin. Killing people was nothing new to any one of them. But Enrico had winced anyway when Daniel shot the old man. He normally wasn't prone to doing that himself.

Tobias took all weapons from Daniel. That was probably for the best. Then he seemed to order Daniel to get the corpse of Wolf Kranz out of the showroom. Daniel raged and argued, but obeyed in the end. The hostages went back to where they had sat before. Elena hugged Heinkel so tight she seemed to squeeze all life out of her. Most just stared blankly into space or were crying.

"You can fast forward. We sat there for hours while Tobias was negotiating. They wanted to keep all the stuff they stole and walk free. The usual." Yumie looked as worried as Enrico felt.

She was too calm, even for a paladin. Something _he_ would never be able to do. Enrico had never been a fighter. Most of the time, he was very glad about that.

They fast forwarded. As Heinkel had said, almost nothing happened except for Daniel and Francis exchanging positions. Until the man in the suit was shot.

_Munich, December 20th, 2016_

The hostages were listening intently, but nothing much happened. They were lucky, Heinkel thought. Tobias was an intelligent and patient man. He had said any attempt on gaining entry by force would result in a death, but that was not surprising. He wasn't fast to pull the trigger. He didn't fit in the group at all. That was no amateur.

Now that Daniel was disarmed, the people started to relax. The young woman of the couple on the left side of the room fell unconscious after the death of Mr Kranz. With Tobias' permission they had introduced themselves to the others. The young woman in the too tight business costume was called Jana. She had been on the way to a job interview.

The young couple consisted of Oliver and Sarah. They had been shopping for wedding rings. The wedding was scheduled for the first of January. "Easy to remember," Oliver had joked nervously.

The man in the business suit was Matthias Riebertz. He didn't say much, not where he was from, or what he had done before or planned after shopping.

The elderly couple were Heinz and Marlene Passau. Marlene's wedding ring was too tight and she had wanted to insert a gemstone so she could still wear it. "Forty-eight years," she had said with a faint smile. "And just as long we have been Wolf's customers." After that there hadn't been much to talk about and the minutes passed in silence.

"Can I go to the toilet?", Riebertz suddenly asked.

Daniel stared at him, as if he was hiding a gun somewhere, but didn't move. Tobias looked at the scared, tired faces and nodded. "Fine. One at a time. Daniel, keep looking for squads." Daniel grumbled and turned back to the window. The police wouldn't dare to charge in. It was too dangerous for the hostages. They would continue the negotiations soon.

Riebertz swayed and stumbled while he tried to get up. Tobias stepped forward to help him. "Sorry. My legs fell asleep," Riebertz said. Then he punched Tobias in the throat and ran for the door.

The bullet hit him in the back of his head. Blood and brain splattered on Daniel and the blends. Suddenly, everything was silent while their ears still rang. There was hectic activity outside. Nobody paid attention to it. Everybody was staring at the bloodbath. Francis lowered his gun. "That was a stupid move," he said and smiled. It was a horrible smile. He had laid low up till now. Disappeared in the background. Heinkel shivered.

Tobias stared at him. "You said you never had a gun in hand before."

"I lied." Francis walked over to the windows and wiped away the blood with a handkerchief.

"You- You bastard!", Mr Passau growled. He got to his feet. Standing, he was taller than even Tobias. Despite his age he looked like a fighting champion. "That was unnecessary!"

"Please sit down again," Tobias said, grabbing his gun but not drawing it. Yet. Passau remained where he was.

"Tobias, get the megaphone. If they come any closer, somebody will die. If they charge in, _everybody_ will die," Francis said. His voice was flat. _Is he high?_, Heinkel suddenly asked herself. They had talked in school about that and she had seen enough films. Maybe that was why he was so calm. But his hands were steady. "Daniel, get that guy out of here. Put him in the back to the other."

"You monster!"

"Sit. Down!", Tobias ordered and laid a hand on Passau's shoulder. _He doesn't want to kill anyone. He's the leader but this has all gotten way out of hand. _Passau did as he was told. Tobias visibly relaxed. He gave Francis the megaphone while Daniel dragged Riebertz' corpse to the room behind the counter.

"Don't come any closer," Francis announced through the megaphone. "Every time you do that, we will kill one of the hostages. We have explosives. If you try to charge in, everybody will die."

"That's not true!", Mr. Passau yelled as loud as he could. Tobias smacked him across the head with the butt of his gun. The elderly man fell in the lap of his wife, bleeding. He groaned. Marlene glared at Tobias, her face unmoving and icy. "At least give me the first aid kit, young man." He did so, obviously shocked about his own strength. _A sinner who wants redemption_, Heinkel thought. How funny. As if there was a chance of saving him now, after all that. Suddenly she heard the voice of Father Anderson. _Taking the life of ae man is the worst sin in the world. _Tobias hadn't killed anyone yet.

Francis completely ignored everything going on. "Also, we will bring great pain to one of the hostages every hour our demands are not fulfilled."

Tobias stared at him. "You don't have to ask me twice," Daniel said, grinning. "Every full hour," he reminded them.

"For God's sake, Sir, you don't need to do this!" The policeman outside was panicking. It was almost noon. Ten minutes left to the full hour.

"God has nothing to do with this."

"This is madness!", Tobias proclaimed. He walked to the door. "I'm turning myself in."

He froze when he heard Francis pulling back the hammer of his gun. The muzzle of the gun touched his temple. "Do that and I'll shoot you. I'm sorry for it, but we can't afford to let any information leak. You're free to denounce us if they capture you." Tobias slowly turned around. Francis showed him a little remote. It looked like a normal pad for typing in security codes. "Also, I _do _have explosives. I just want to finish this like we planned."

"How do you want to?", Daniel wailed. "Everything went wrong from the start!" Francis just smiled.

The cuckoo clock on the wall struck noon. Everybody froze. The hostages looked at each other uneasily. Who would they pick? In times of need, everybody thought of himself first. That was a basic rule of human nature. Elena huddled closer to her daughter. So did Oliver and Sarah. Marlene Passau was still busy treating her husband and didn't bother to look up. René tried to comfort Jana a bit. She was crying.

Francis looked at every hostage carefully. Heinkel tried to follow his thoughts. He probably wouldn't want to kill anyone if it wasn't necessary. He needed someone physically and mentally stable. He smiled at her and Heinkel froze, looking him dead in the eye. "You, little girl. How about you?"

"No!", Elena cried. She jumped to her feet. "Take me instead." Tobias grabbed her arms and somehow wrestled her to the ground. Heinkel could hear what he whispered to her.

"Don't make him kill you. She will need you later on." Heinkel got to her feet and walked over to Francis. What would he do? Hit her? She could take that. If she could get that gun from his hand... Tobias wouldn't shoot her, she figured. And Daniel wasn't armed. If she was fast enough, she could take them all out at once. But she only had one chance.

"Don't think about trying anything funny or you won't think ever again, little girl." He smiled. "Your name was Heinkel, right? And you last name?"

"Wolfe," she said.

"Heinkel Wolfe. A little rebel, aren't you? But not so tough now." He grabbed her with one arm pressing hers against her sides. Something stirred inside of her. Her whole body was trembling. All of a sudden she was terrified. Heinkel gritted her teeth and blinked the tears away. She couldn't give up now! She saw her family, both her foster parents and her friends from the orphanage. How much she missed them! When this was over, she should search for them. Ask Father Anderson.

"Say 'Aaah', little girl," Francis commanded.

Heinkel couldn't turn around to look at him. "What?"

He squeezed her painfully. "Open your mouth as wide as you can. Or do you want to lose the complete jaw?"

This trembling, the terror again. What did he want to do? _I swore I'd never be helpless again! _She had to put her head back to look at him. The muzzle of the gun was icy on her skin. _You bastard. I'll never let people like you run my life._

She heard a shot and wondered who was the victim this time. The others screamed in unison. Hot liquid ran over her chin. _Huh? _It was the only thought she was still capable of. _Huh? _She tasted something hot and metallic. It tasted horrible, but so familiar. Francis pushed her to the ground, in the little corridor where the counter was cut in half. Suddenly, the pain started. Heinkel was too stunned to scream. Red flooded her mind. It _hurt_. So much more than any injury she had ever suffered. The pain was so complete, it swallowed the world around her.

Until something fell to the ground right beside her face. Heinkel forced herself to open her eyes. Metal glistened in a sea of red. "Try to fight back now, you little rebel. That is if you still can." Francis laughed and turned away.

Heinkel could hear various noises, a lot of hubbub, a slap and quiet sobbing. The loudest of it all was her own heartbeat. She felt it in her torn cheeks. She felt the fabric of the floor sliding over torn flesh. _What did you do to me? _The more rational part of her mind answered her: _He shot through your cheeks. The bullet entered on the right and exited on the left. The flesh between the mouth and the holes tore open when you fell. _

She blinked slowly. The gun was still lying where Francis had dropped it. _Fight back, if you can. _And fight back she would. She wanted to scream out when she moved. Agony burned in her face, but she just endured it. _Apostles, yet not apostles. Traitors, yet not traitors. _That had Father Anderson told them when Enrico asked. The legion of Judas Iscariot. She was born to be a fighter. Heretics and heathens would never rule over her.

Her hand closed around the cold metal. It was a semi-automatic gun with a small calibre. You could kill somebody with it, as long as you were close enough.

Heinkel had no idea how long she had been lying there. It didn't matter as long as they had forgotten about her. She was half concealed by the counter. That was good. Heinkel started to get up. She didn't make a sound, despite the red pain blurring her sight. First to her knees. Her hand was trembling, but she could pull back the sledge of the gun. It was a loud sound, but was drowned out by somebody violently coughing. Heinkel got hold of the counter and pulled herself to her feet. Once she was standing, her balance returned. She could feel flaps of skin loosely sticking to her face. It hurt. But she couldn't give in now. What would Father Anderson think of her?

The three robbers had their backs turned to her. So had most of the hostages, except for Oliver, Heinz Passau and Jana. They were unconscious. The others were listening intently on what Francis was negotiating.

Heinkel couldn't make out the words and didn't care. She needed to act quick before her strength left her. Clutching the pistol with both hands, she aimed at Tobias' head. At the last moment, she decided differently. The bullet hit Daniel in the temple. Spraying blood – though not an awful lot – he collapsed. Everybody spun, screaming like a bunch of monkeys.

"Shit!" Francis tried to get his gun. Heinkel wavered and the bullet hit him in the chest. He collapsed, coughing blood.

"Girl, that's not-" Tobias made the mistake of aiming a gun at her instead of just raising his hands. He was too confused to do that. Heinkel stumbled forward, found her balance again; the next moment, Tobias collapsed with a hole in his forehead.

Francis was still alive. She could hear him breath. It sounded wet, so he would probably die anyway. But leaving things unfinished only produced problems. That was what Elena had taught her. She wanted to go to him, but her legs gave way.

"Heinkel! Oh God, honey!" Elena was there, cradling her. Everybody who was not dead or unconscious was up, running around. Somebody shouted for the police and the paramedics. Heinkel just lay there, Elena crying over her, her face burning. She had lost the gun somehow.

There was somebody else. A little sting on her arm. The pain went away and she couldn't feel much anymore at all. Somebody else picked her up and carried her outside, away from the smell of blood and gunpowder.

_Present day_

The video stopped. Heinkel had leaned onto the table. She could feel the scars brushing against the skin of her hands. "Happy now?"

"I really don't know what to say to that," Enrico said quietly. Yumie remained silent, unsure of what to say as well. Heinkel yawned and stretched. "That's fine with me. Then I can go home now, I guess? It's the middle of the night." She stood up, her hand automatically checking her holsters. "Get rid of that, okay? Once and for all." She didn't stay to watch him erase it. Enrico would do it, she knew that. He was her friend. So with a quick "Goodnight" she slipped out on the dark corridor.

While she walked back to her flat – she was one of the around 800 actual residents of Vatican City, which was pretty awesome if you thought about it – she thought about what the video didn't show. "Francis" - actually Klaus Wagner – had really survived. The others didn't. All in all, that made five dead. Heinz Passau had died from the head injuries he sustained. So Tobias had killed someone after all. He was probably burning in hell now, where she would join him once she died. They always said 'confess and you'll go to heaven', but she could only laugh about that. Like fuck that worked. Some sins you could never atone for in this life.

She had been awake the whole ride to the hospital, thinking about nothing specific as far as she knew. Afterwards she couldn't remember anything but a vague feeling of contempt. Elena was crying all the time. She accompanied her daughter in the ambulance. Once in the hospital her step-father, Damian, joined them. Heinkel remembered a nice-looking young man telling her she would sleep now, before everything went black.

Some two weeks later she met Brenda for the first time. Her second lifesaver. Maybe third, counting Father Anderson. Unlike paladin Francesca and him, Brenda was not a fighter. She was a pretty, slender woman with skin the colour of milk coffee, with a bright smile, quick wits and talented hands. The hospital had closed the wounds in Heinkel's face, but she would forever wear horrible, jagged scars. That was how the doctor put it. Heinkel never let anyone know she had heard those words. She just buried in books as soon as she was home and started writing again herself.

The same doctor had directed them to Brenda. Brenda was a beauty surgeon working for a charity project. She did not get any money. Brenda did this just because she was nice.

Heinkel had sat in the waiting room of the beauty clinic – alone the word made her shudder -, her face bandaged, reading a book. Heinkel was the only patient today. She figured that had been on purpose. She didn't want to be there, she didn't want to meet anyone, no matter how often her parents said it was for her best. Looking like Frankenstein for her entire life was horrible enough. And the blackness of anaesthesia scared her. She didn't want to lose control over her body. That had never done her any good.

She was reading _Inkheart _by Cornelia Funke when the door opened. She ignored it.

_The light from the hallway fell on her bed, mingling with the darkness of the night that seeped in through the window, and Meggie lay there waiting for the dark to disappear and take her fear of some evil menace away with it. _

Long legs in tight black trousers entered her vision. "Hello Heinkel, darling." The voice was jolly and energetic. She looked up, but unwillingly. Brenda smiled at her. The first thing Heinkel noticed was how beautiful she was. Brenda had a wonderfully symmetric face and skin so soft you wanted to touch it. She had bright blue eyes, completely illogical for a person of her dark skin colour. Maybe contact lenses. But the smile was genuine. "Aren't you a pretty girl? Just like your mother said. My name is Brenda. You sure as hell know I'm a surgeon, sweetie. But as far as I see, there's not much to do for me this time." After that, Heinkel somehow liked her instantly.

But not even Brenda's magical hands could get rid of the scars completely.

Still, the surgeon had become one of Heinkel's best friends. She listened and took her for who she was – an adult, not a child. She was a bigger help than any psychologist. They were even in the same kickboxing club.

Even after all those years, they still talked sometimes. They met for coffee when Heinkel was in Germany. Maybe she should call her tomorrow, Heinkel thought.

How much she hated those scars. Even after fifteen years. She wasn't uncomfortable talking about it. What happened, happened. But she hated them anyway. Somewhere in her head something jumped in expectation whenever Brenda called. She had promised Heinkel to give her a ring the moment she found a possibility to help her. So far, there had been nothing. But she didn't give up. That wasn't like her. Both of them never gave up.

Heinkel opened her door and went inside. It was just past two o'clock. She really needed sleep. And then she would have to wait. If Enrico had done his job properly – she didn't really expect anything else - Wagner would walk free. And then it was her move.

Heinkel changed into pyjamas and went into the bathroom. She looked at the face she knew so well. An androgynous face, no doubt about it, despite the long lashes and full lips. Turquoise eyes, straw blond hair and pale skin. Two broad, jagged white lines running from the corners of her mouth over her cheeks. Flat scars, like they were painted on the skin. If you touched it you could only feel a slight unevenness. But obvious, so obvious.

Revenge didn't turn back the time. But hell, it would feel good.


	6. Have you ever seen the rain?

**Chapter 5: Have you ever seen the rain?**

_Iscariot HQ, Rome, August 26th, 2016_

Enrico could not help himself pacing up and down. He told himself he was being ridiculous for what felt like the fiftieth time. He had things to work on. The Pope wanted a detailed report, delivered in person. But Enrico was unsure of how to proceed if they could not trust anyone.

_Millennium._

Old mistakes got back to you, that was common knowledge. Everybody with an average interest in history knew the Vatican helped the Nazis after the war. But not like this. Helping those abominations to flee and build a secret army. What a disgrace. Section Eight, John, was still suppressing the information, but for how long? Nobody knew who was an enemy agent. This was a whole new threat and everybody seemed to expect Iscariot to deal with it. Meaning _him_.

Ironically, the Iscariots, the apostles of the traitor, were the ones he trusted in most. They would never be seduced by the promise of eternal life. But he could not be sure. There was only a handful of people to exclude: Anderson, Renaldo, Heinkel, Yumie (and Yumiko) and Lisa. They would never betray him.

Nazi vampires. If it wasn't that serious, he would have laughed. Like out of a bad film.

And there was still this Hellsing thing to deal with. Caitlyn Hellsing had not tried to contact him yet, but rumor had it that she had actually _two _vampires. Fan-fucking-tastic, like Lisa liked to say. _The more the merrier_, he thought sarcastically. _Damned heretics._

His eye twitched. Most of the time he didn't feel it, even tended to forget about it completely. Another thing he had tried to get rid of. Unlike with his accent, he hadn't been very successful in that case. He stopped for a moment, hands behind his back, staring out of the window without seeing anything. Somehow it all boiled down to one thing: Millennium.

All the attacks on both Catholic and Protestant institutions had one goal: Distract them. Information was leaking everywhere and the governments were getting in more trouble by the minute.

But maybe that was good. They could use it.

Still, the Vatican could not send official troops, as it officially _had _no troops, and Iscariot had not enough agents to deal with everything. The injury rate in their business was high, the death toll fortunately a bit lower by now. But there were only few he dared to send on a mission alone.

Of those, two were in Rome at the moment, and one had suddenly decided she needed a holiday. Enrico had known better than trying to stop her. The look in those eyes had told him enough. She also took her secret student with her. A good plan, he had to give her that. As long as Anderson didn't find out. Enrico just wished she had chosen a better time. After fifteen years, what difference did it make?

No, the reason why he was so restless was different. Its name was short, only four letters long.

Lisa.

She was on a mission in Romania, together with two paladins called Pablo and Jack, both of which Enrico had figured were not likely to be traitors. Obviously he was more nervous than she had been.

Enrico spun when the door fell shut. "Can't you knock?", he snapped. Anderson didn't react to the aggressive tone. "Ah did. Ye didnae answer."

"What is it?", Enrico growled.

"Jus' wanted tae ask ye something. After all the attacks, whit aboot yer family? Thay're in Canada, richt?"

"They're fine." _Actually_, he mused, _there is no way they can't be. They know better than most people what is going on. _That was no big surprise, with both of their children in an organization like Iscariot. He had never tried to hide what he was doing. They didn't need to know everything, but otherwise it would be ungrateful and unfair. He had actually talked to them over the phone just yesterday. Enrico didn't doubt they would be safe until this was over. _Did they expect this when they adopted us? Probably not._

"Whit aboot Lisa?" That was another matter entirely. Lisa _was _a paladin, he had signed all the papers himself, knowing this would happen. She was skilled and clever. And still he couldn't stop worrying. Big-brother-syndrome, she called it. "I really would have preferred sending Heinkel with her, or you." Before Anderson could answer, Yumiko ran in without knocking. Well, she _did _knock. The door aside, frantically waving a sheet of paper. "CHIEF!"

She tripped over the carpet. Anderson caught her in mid-air. "C-Chief, it's horrible!", Yumiko whimpered. Anderson set her down, but she didn't move an inch. Enrico had to go round the desk to get the sheets from her. He didn't like that. He didn't like it at all.

Yumiko tended to exaggerate, of course. In some aspects, Yumie was far easier to deal with. But both were persons and ignoring that would not be fair. Suddenly, Yumiko wiped her eyes and pushed the papers against his chest. "We lost contact with the agents in Romania about two hours ago. They should-"

"- investigate a small terrorist group probably set up by Millennium. I know." Enrico read over the report. It was less than one page. Then he read it again and took a deep breath. It was shaking.

_This can mean anything. Don't freak out, Maxwell. Losing your head doesn't help you. _Yumie and Anderson would have no problem dealing with this. He would probably accompany them this time.

He read the second sheet. It was a letter giving the orders of the Holy Father. Enrico read it again. And again. And once again. _That's got to be a mistake._

He laid the sheets on his desk, trying to hide his shaking hands. "Thank you. I'll take care of it. While you two are here just now, I have new orders. Anderson, there's a situation in the south of Ireland. Marco will tell you the details. As to you, Yumiko, you and Yumie will go to France. At the north coast there lives a retired archbishop. We need to arrange his grounds as a temporary base to use at some point in the future." He handed her a letter sealed with the signet of the Pope and wrote down the address. "Just give him that."

"Where's Heinkel?", Yumiko asked.

"She said she needed a few days off."

"WHAT?!" Anderson and Yumiko gaped at him. "Now?!"

Enrico turned to his desk and waved his hand impatiently. "Something about her family, I think. I was in a hurry. Besides, she's our best agent in Germany. Ask her when she comes back." He could actually feel the confused and worried glances on his back. He straightened up and more or less shooed them outside. "I've got to work." He shut the door behind them and leaned against it, then slid down to the floor. He felt a slight twitch of his eye. As if that made a difference. He was trembling and so was his voice. Now that he was alone he couldn't help it.

"Damn it," he whispered. "I never should have let her go."

_Outside of Richmond, Canada, 1999_

"You...", he snarled. "You brats!" He tried to grab her foot, but Lisa crawled away, sobbing in panic. Why was nobody here? They should never have come here in the first place. But Lisa had wanted to see the small waterfall the rain had made. Here, the river flowed over a semicircle of concrete that divided the lake and a storm drain. It was at least nine feet deep.

The man had fallen on exactly that semicircle. He hadn't moved anymore. There had been so much blood, Lisa didn't want to look. They had thought he was dead. But he wasn't.

"LISA!" Her head jerked around. Enrico grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. He looked just as frightened as she was. There were streaks of dirt on his cheeks.

"Stay away!", Enrico ordered, his voice wavering, but loud. The man just laughed. Or rather howled the laughter, as he had slipped on the wet leaves covering the slope and fell on his bad leg. The fall before had broken it. Blood soaked his jeans.

"You brats! You dare oppose the Great Joseph Drake, the Highway Killer?" He stumbled forward. Lisa clung on to her brother, not able to move. They both just stared at the bloody and broken, but still frightening man. Enrico was tall for his age, but what could he do against a grown man?

He shoved Lisa away. "Vieni!" Lisa shook her head violently. He was too scared to pay attention to his words. Lisa could barely understand him through the thick accent, English mixed with Italian.

_Please God, if you are like Enrico always says, then help us!_

A cold wind brushed over them. It hit Drake square in the face, putting him off balance. "We have to kill him," Enrico said. His voice was flat. All he could think about was protecting his sister. God had given her to him after he had been alone all his life. His parents had abandoned him three years ago. But God had granted a miracle, had given him a family, a home and Lisa. Nobody would take that from him.

_I am strong. Nobody will ever look down on me again. Especially not that lowlife scum._

Lisa looked at him with wide eyes. She nodded. Enrico made a step forward. His foot slipped on the leaves and he tumbled down the slope, right into the arms of the madman trying to kill them. Drake laughed triumphantly. His hands closed like steel around Enrico's throat. Suddenly, the boy couldn't breathe anymore. Pain was pulsing in his throat. He struggled, tried to pull them away, but the hands were too tight.

_He won't defeat me! Not me! He's nothing but a _thing_! I will look down on such people!_

"Enrico!" Lisa dragged him away. He almost hit her, struggling blindly, until he realized it was her. Somehow, he had freed himself. He was breathing.

Drake was lying on the ground, unconscious. He was bleeding from his already injured leg and there was fresh blood on his face. Lisa was trembling, clinging to her brother's arm like for dear life. Numbly, Enrico looked down at his hands. The knuckles were bloody. Now the pain began, too. He faintly remembered hitting the man, but an eleven-year-old couldn't possibly be that strong.

"You kicked his injured leg. And when he fell, you hit him again," Lisa said quietly. "Is... is he dead?"

Enrico shook his head. "Deviamo ucciderlo."

Lisa didn't know the words, but she knew what he meant. "No! Let's just go! Mum will be angry if we're not home!" She plucked at his sleeve desperately. "Please! Let's go!", she begged.

Enrico spun and grabbed her shoulders. His emerald eyes were wild. Lisa flinched. "We have to! Or he will go after us forever. Or he'll just tell the police."

"But... But he's a murderer!", Lisa whimpered. The thought didn't want to make sense to her.

Enrico laughed hoarsely. Puberty vocal change was setting in early with him. It made him sound like an adult. A mean and sad adult, Lisa thought. "Who will they believe? An adult or two kids?" The man moaned and tried to get up. Enrico let go and gently pushed Lisa behind him. "A heathen... a murderer like him doesn't deserve to live! We are doing the world a favour!"

Drake got up, limping, his face twisted with rage. "I'm going to kill you. I'll fuck you both and kill you while you scream for mercy!", he roared, trying to reach them.

The two children ran at him. Drake was taken by surprise. He lost his balance and leaned on his injured leg. It gave way under him. They all fell, Drake howling in pain. There was a sickening _thud_ when his head hit the ground.

Enrico and Lisa got up, shaking. Blood was spreading on the leaves. "Is he dead?", Lisa whispered, like she feared he would spring back to life any moment.

"I- I think so." Enrico was shivering all over, his throat almost too tight to speak. Lisa was the only thing he could hold onto now, so he hugged her as hard as he could. _God, forgive me. _A sudden thought hit him: Would he go to hell now? Killing meant violating the Ten Commandments.

Then, suddenly, he heard Father Anderson's voice. It was almost as if he was standing right behind him. Enrico was so startled he turned around. There was no one of course. Just him and Lisa and this corpse in the small part of forest. _Violence is ne'er the answer. The only yins ye should ever get rough wi' are heathens and monsters. _Enrico had simply defended himself against the other boys mocking him. They were stupid and didn't deserve what they had. He had gotten in plenty of fights back then, so Anderson had told him this. _Heathens and monsters. _He managed a shaky smile. God wouldn't punish him for ridding the world of a heathen and monster like this _scum_.

"We need to hide him," he said.

Lisa nodded solemnly. "What about the evidence?" She had seen this – secretly – in a TV show when their parents hadn't been home. After that she had slept in her brother's bed for three nights, too afraid to lie in the dark alone. Even if it was only a few meters between their beds.

"We... We can push him into the drain. If they don't find him per pochi giorni..." Enrico was slipping into his own thoughts again, trying to come up with an idea to hide the red spots scattered everywhere. "The water will wash most of it away. There's another storm coming." Lisa nodded again. The children stared at the corpse. "We have to," Enrico said.

They pushed. The man was not tall and not really fat... but to them it was like a block of lead. The still warm flesh under the dirty clothes seemed to be pulsing. There was blood... so much blood. And the broken leg was moving with a smacking noise. Lisa was close to vomiting. Enrico just clenched his teeth and laid all his strength in moving the body. He was so pale his skin resembled his blond hair.

Suddenly, the body started rolling. It picked up speed as it rolled down the slope, then flew through the air. He smashed on the concrete circle and fell into the funnel, landing with a splash. Enrico turned around and threw up. He felt like an idiot, but afterwards the sickness had passed. There was an awful taste in his mouth. He would love a glass of water now. He spat out again to get rid of the worst taste. "And now?", Lisa asked, her voice dreamy.

"We have to hide all... this." Where Drake had lain there was a cobblestone, most of it buried in the earth. Now it was smeared with blood. "Get... Get a few leaves or something." He couldn't help staring at all this blood. This morning he had sat in school and stared out of the window, wondering what his Mamma would make for dinner.

Lisa had gathered leaves and started erasing the marks of their struggle. Enrico could drag himself away from the bloody stone and helped her. After they were finished they looked around again. Would anyone find this and get suspicious?

"Can we go back now?", Lisa asked quietly. What would they tell their mother? Enrico's knuckles were bloody and they were dirty and scared.

There were feet running over the small walkway. "Dude, hurry up!"

Enrico and Lisa dashed behind a fallen tree. Lisa squeaked in panic, so he put his hand over her mouth, barely able to think straight himself. It was two male voices, adults, but not very old.

"Calm down, no one's following us. They're still freaking out." There was a smacking sound and a pained howl. "Fuck, why did you do that?", the other voice snapped.

"You idiot! Why did you have to shoot him! It was take everything and run for the hills! Now were wanted for murder. Do you get that, Jan? Murderers have a way higher priority than common thieves!"

"Absolutamento, Bro. Don't worry. Fuckers can't even organize a hunt. We'll just get rid of that stuff and skip town. I wanna go back to the US anyway."

"Do you want to get shot again?"

"Ah, for fuck's sake, big brother! Can't I have a little fucking bit of fun? We're the fucking Valentines! Nobody ever caught us!"

The older one sighed. "Let's just get out of here. These woods are freaking me out." The steps continued, then went away slowly. They were gone.

Enrico and Lisa stayed where they are, huddled together, frozen in place. Enrico was suddenly aware he had held his breath for so long his head began to swim. He carefully let it out and inhaled again. Lisa looked at him with huge dark eyes in the twilight. They should have been home long ago. Mamma would be so mad with them. "Are they gone?", she mouthed.

Enrico gathered all his courage to look around the tree. There was nobody. "Let's go!"

He took her hand and they ran in the direction from where the two men had come. Half the way back to their home they stopped, both panting. "What do we tell Mum?", Lisa asked.

Enrico had tried to think of a plausible story all the time, but everything was just ridiculous lies. But maybe... They didn't have to lie. Not immediately. "We tell Mamma we were here."

"But- If anyone finds him..."

"We fell. Both of us. Mamma won't believe it. And after a while we confess we were somewhere else. Like..." _Come on, think! _"The old train tracks."

"But we're not allowed to go there... Oh."

Enrico smiled. It was almost painful. "Exactly."

Lisa looked him dead in the eyes without saying anything for several seconds. Then she hugged him. "Thank you."

_Nobody will look down on me. They will... love me._

"I'm... I'm your older brother, right?" The kids in school didn't believe him. He was adopted, so his parents weren't really his parents. And Lisa was not his sister. _They don't know anything._

"Always and forever," Lisa said.

Enrico looked at the sky just to see a shooting star pass over the darkening space. Then he looked at Lisa again. He took her hands. "God can hear us now." Lisa smiled. Seeing that made him happy. God granted him something special. The rest was up to him. Serving God was his destiny.

"I promise I will always be there to protect you."

_Iscariot HQ, Rome, August 30th, 2016 _

Heinkel entered the head quarters and almost ran into Fernandez, one of the paladins that had been taken from active duty because of old age. There were few of them. Heinkel wondered if she'd ever make it and what she would do then. Hopefully, that was far in the future. She was only twenty-five. What the hell was she thinking all day? She greeted Fernandez and they passed each other. Just a regular day.

Time to report back to the chief. He was probably glad to have her back. There was so much to do, everybody felt there was more to it than usual vampires. Heinkel had been there – had heard pretty much everything about Millennium. Still, it was hard to grasp.

Anderson and Yumiko were waiting on the corridor in front of Maxwell's office. They were still in traveling clothes. "Oh, hey," Heinkel said and smiled. "Are we making a tea party or anything?"

"Did ye enjoy yer vacation?", Anderson asked. Heinkel ignored his sour tone. Obviously, he had no idea what she had been doing or that Vicky had been with her.

"Oh, yes. I did very much." When she smiled again, Yumiko winced. Heinkel was efficient and sometimes a bit overdoing it, just like Yumie. But she had never thought her friend could be actually _cruel. _But this smile was just evil. Yumiko shuddered. Then, all of a sudden, everything was back to normal. "Alessia invited us to her concerts this fall, by the way."

Yumiko blinked. "Concerts?"

Heinkel nodded with the enthusiasm only an older sister could manage. "She got a recording contract. Isn't that awesome? My little sis is going to be a rock star!"

"Congratulations," Anderson said warmly. "I look forward to hearing her songs."

Heinkel abruptly changed the topic. "What are we waiting for, anyway?"

"For Enrico to let us through," Yumiko said quietly.

"Does he have a visitor?"

"No idea. But we only returned this morning." Heinkel looked at her phone. Eleven in the morning. Enrico was not exactly a late riser and obviously he was in his office. They all turned when the door opened. It was Marco Renaldo. He looked unusually grim.

Anderson got up. Something was wrong. They all felt it. "Marco. Whit in the world are ye doin' here?"

Renaldo pushed up his spectacles. "The chief is not here."

"Whit do ye say o' me?" Anderson frowned. Yumiko on the other hand didn't look too surprised. Heinkel wanted to ask why she was that depressed, but Renaldo went on. "He took a few days off."

_Days off_, Heinkel thought with an ironic notion. _We know where that leads with the lot of us. _

There was silence for several seconds, until Yumiko whispered: "He can't be that stupid. He can't."

Anderson growled. "Ah wouldnae underestimate him. Marco?" What in the world was going on? Anderson didn't like this a bit. Something had been wrong for days. He had felt it the moment Enrico had kicked them out of his office. He really should have asked immediately. It was Yumiko, who answered. "The group we lost contact to... that was Lisa."

_Oh, Laird. _"Where?"

"Bucharest, Romania. A standard mission, actually," Renaldo said. "We can assume the chief is already there, right?"

"Wait a sec," Heinkel interrupted. "Can you say that again for the slowpokes like me? Are you telling me he went there ALONE? He'd do everything for Lisa, but he would not... Oh God, he would. But why didn't he take us with him?"

Renaldo gave Anderson a letter with the signet of the Holy Father. Anderson only needed one glance at it. "Iscariot was ordered not to step in."

"That's got to be a joke!", Heinkel protested, her hands tightening around the halts of her guns. "They are our people! And we-" She went silent. Anderson watched as she slightly tilted her head and blinked. He knew that pose. She just had had an idea. "We can't trust anyone," she suddenly said. All anger was gone. The others could literally see her planning and overthrowing those plans.

The Chaos Girls looked at each other. Yumiko had her lips pressed tightly together. "We're going to kill again," she said, her voice strained. But in her eyes was a fire even Heinkel had not seen in a long time. "They dare hurt our friends. They oppose the kingdom of God and take our chief prisoner." Her voice was trembling. "Let's go!"

Anderson exchanged a glance with Marco. There was no doubt the Chaos Girls were partners "till death do us part". He wondered if this was simply the spirit of the time. When he became a paladin, he had never found a partner like that. But he was glad for them. All of them.

Family was all you had after all.

_Outskirts of Bucharest, Romania, August 27th, 2016_

The street was empty despite it being just past noon. This part of the city belonged to the homeless, the hopeless, the criminals. Many of them were all of this at once. The houses were in ruins and even in bright daylight Enrico hadn't been able to find a taxi to bring him in this part of town. So he had walked all the way, through dirty streets and abandoned houses left to rot. The building he stood in front of now had been a small factory once. The gate was rusted and looked like it would fall apart any moment. It stood open wide enough for a person to fit through. There was a small yard and behind that the factory itself, crumbling slowly to dust in the course of time.

It had been ridiculously easy tracking them down. Lisa's work phone had GPS and the kidnappers hadn't bothered to turn it off. It was a trap, of course it was.

He just had to ignore that. If Iscariot couldn't step in, he had to do this in private. Protecting her was his duty as an older brother. Even though he knew this was endangering his position, he had ignored every call from the main quarters. With a bit of luck, this would be over soon, without any fuss. If not, he still had a self-made GPS transmitter. He had sent the code to Renaldo, together with the location he expected Lisa to be. _If _he was caught, he just had to hope nobody would suspect anything. Not very likely, he had to admit. Pushing his doubts away, he started for the gate. He wasn't a paladin, but he was not helpless.

The yard was empty. No one to be seen anywhere. There were plenty of shadows to hide in. Enrico went around the building, searching for an entrance. The north door was unlocked. He walked inside, as if he had every right to be there. He was wearing an old hoodie with the hood up, trainers and jeans. Except for a few loose strands his blond hair had vanished under the black fabric.

The hallway was short and dimly lit from light shining through holes in the wall. It bent off to the right. There were a few doors, but the rooms were empty. It was eerily silent in here. Had he made a mistake after all?

The main hall was divided by a pile of old pallets. Something cracked loudly. Enrico spun. That came from further down the corridor. He left the main hall and carefully opened the next door. It creaked slightly. The sound sent a shiver down his back. This looked like a ghost house. _Don't be silly! You're too old for this. Stop acting like a coward. _

Still, it was getting increasingly hard to hold his panic at bay. Why had he come here alone? Sitting in his office, there had been no doubt about what he would do. Theories were such a nice thing. Such a safe thing.

The next room was completely dark. Feeling like a character in a horror movie, Enrico pulled out a tiny flashlight and examined the room without entering it. The beam washed over unmoving faces and staring eyes. Enrico staggered back, gasping. _Pull yourself together! What kind of Catholic are you? _His heart beating rapidly, he stepped forward again and looked closer. The bodies were in bad shape. They had been beaten to death, dying too fast to develop bruises. The blood had already dried, so it had happened quite a while ago. Yesterday, at least. The man with the blond hair was Jack Gaudy. The other one had been called Pablo Hernandez, a youngster like Lisa. The two paladins meant to keep her safe.

The beam was trembling so much it didn't reveal much more. Enrico put the flashlight away and pulled out the knife he had brought. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. A gun was far more difficult to transport to a foreign country just like that. Especially since he couldn't rely on Vatican channels now.

_I'm quite a sorry excuse for an Iscariot. _He rarely wanted to admit that, but it was true. Only in lonely moments like this he allowed himself to feel sorry for his weakness. A weakness he shouldn't have at all. A leader like him had to be feared rather than fear. It was his destiny to become a great man. God had chosen this path for him.

Enrico slowly followed the way the corridor was leading. He was scared to death and hadn't even met anyone yet. He just wasn't made for fighting. If it wasn't for Lisa, he wouldn't be here at all.

The next room's door was closed. Enrico ordered himself to calm down. Like that, he'd never reach anything. Nobody would make someone Pope that couldn't lead. He opened the door. It was just as dim as everywhere inside, but there was a figure sitting on the floor with her face down. She seemed to be tied to a pipe in the wall. Dark hair hung in her face.

Enrico quickly looked around. No one there. He stepped into the room and hurried to her. "Lisa?" She raised her head, groaning. "Who? Huh?" When she recognized him her face changed from confusion to anger. "What the fuck are you doing here alone?", she hissed.

He blinked. That was not exactly the reaction he had expected. "Rescuing you. What else?"

"Heinkel and Yumie are probably securing the area then. Did you bring Anderson, too?" He didn't respond. She talked about this like it was natural. As if he was defenseless.

Lisa gaped at him. "No," she said slowly. "No way. Enrico, please don't tell me..." She trailed off. Her eyes flashed in the twilight. "You. Fucking. Idiot."

"I had to go alone!", he defended himself . "The Pope ordered us not to intervene."

"Then you should have obeyed!", Lisa snapped.

He was close to doing something he would dearly regret afterwards. It was just his fear irritating him. "And just leave you? You know I can't do that." Why did she have to be so stubborn? Just like everyone. Nobody ever seemed to listen to him properly. "It's the Camerlengo. He's probably a double agent." He tried to cut the ropes holding her, but they were thick and he didn't want to cut her on accident. That could take a while. Lisa was going on chiding him. He suppressed an annoyed answer. She could really be a bit more thankful!

At some point, he had heard enough. "They killed two of our paladins!", he interrupted her harshly.

Lisa fell silent. "I know," she said quietly. Then, with more force: "You can't tell me you would be here just because of that." He could have contradicted her, but where was the point in lying if both knew it was true? He tried to keep his anger at bay. After all that he wasn't appreciated at all?

Finally, the rope holding her snapped. Lisa was a bit shaky, so he pulled her to her feet. She leaned on him, until she could feel her legs again. "Never thought you'd find an opportunity to wear that old stuff again," she joked nervously. Then she froze, looking at something behind him.

The same instant, a hard rectangle pressed into his neck. "Look who we found today," a somewhat grimy-sounding voice with a Romanian accent said. "A real-life bishop. Welcome to Romania, Monsignore Maxwell."


	7. Appetite for destruction

**Chapter 6: Appetite for Destruction**

_Hellsing mansion, outside of London, September 3rd, 2016_

Caitlyn stood in front of the mirror and fought with the ribbon she wore instead of a tie. Or should wear. It just didn't want to look nice. Or when it did, all she had to do was go two steps and it opened again. She had sworn to herself finally to manage this herself.

"Do you need help, ...Lady Caitlyn?"

Caitlyn cursed. "Save your mockery, vampire. Why call me with that title now all of a sudden?"

Walter stopped directly behind her. Surrendering, Caitlyn turned around and let him fix the ribbon. "That's my job as your butler, you know?", Walter said, referencing the ribbon.

"I don't want to be dependent on you for stuff like that." She shrugged and looked at the ribbon in the mirror. Perfect, as always. "Thanks. But you didn't answer my question."

"I just saw you were happy about it. It's the 21. century, so why not?"

Caitlyn nodded. "Where's Mira?"

"Sleeping. Should I go wake her?"

"No, leave her be." Caitlyn didn't know what got into her, but all of a sudden, she hugged Walter. He returned it, although hesitating. "Lady Caitlyn?", he stuttered.

_He has no idea_, Caitlyn suddenly realized. _He really doesn't. _The thought was ridiculous. Didn't everybody say boys weren't able to pick up signs? That went for 80 year old vampires, too, obviously. Caitlyn would have laughed if she hadn't been close to crying again.

"The members of the Convention will arrive soon," Walter said, gently trying to free himself. He was clearly uncomfortable. Caitlyn nodded and let go. She turned to the bed, wiping her face as casual as possible. She was proud her voice was steady. "What about the security check?"

"All is clean. Besides, you still have us."

"True," Caitlyn mumbled. "Then let's go and greet the guests." She walked to the door. "Congrats for you and Mira, by the way." Should he figure that out himself. She had duties to fulfil.

The old men arrived at four p.m., just as Caitlyn had expected. They were scheduled to arrive at four fifteen. It was just one of the little things they did to show her she was not fully accepted. She was too young (Integra had been _thirteen_), she was not raised to be a "countess" (Mira's words, meaning they disapproved of her "missing" education), she questioned the conservative values of the Convention and the Protestant Church (it was the twenty-fist century, for God's sake!), and she was too emotional. Maybe that last thing wasn't that far off.

She was too close with her "weapons", they said. _Bloody well right_, Caitlyn thought, trying to hide a bitter smile. No matter what Walter and Mira might think, they were the only family Caitlyn had ever known.

_There's daggers in men's smiles. _Well, at least they were not smiling. While she greeted every of the twelve members personally, she looked into grim and often disapproving faces. Nobody bothered to hide they didn't like her. She tried to stay polite, smile (_There are daggers in women's smile, too._) and led them to the conference room. Twenty-five to the stairs, twenty stairs, then another sixteen, fifty paces. Twenty-five stairs. Onehundred and seventy paces, the main corridor. Three hundred and sixteen all in all. Pretty ridiculous how large this mansion was, considering the only real residents were the two vampires and herself. Caitlyn had never wanted this. But she would be damned if those arrogant "noblemen" would defeat her with their disapproval and backstabbing.

"Welcome," she said again, when all were seated. Caitlyn counted them, more out of a habit. Eleven. "It seems we're not complete yet." Right this moment, Sir Shelby M. Penwood entered, out of breath, his face reddened. He was a heavyset man with brown hair, a moustache and a tendency to look scared. He was the only one Caitlyn liked and the only one that liked _her. _Maybe it was because he himself was not exactly capable. But he had a good heart and Caitlyn appreciated that he didn't judge her. He alone had offered her help when she struggled with adapting to her new post.

"Good evening, Sir Penwood," she said warmly and smiled the first genuine smile this evening. Penwood looked at his watch and sat down. Exactly quarter past four. "Was the meeting rescheduled?"

"No, we were a bit early," Sir Irons admitted. He played it cool, Caitlyn had to give him that. As if nothing unusual had happened. Caitlyn wondered why they were still alive anyway. Most were a good deal over 80.

"Where is your butler, Sir Hellsing?", Sir Walsh, a former general, asked while he got out a cigar and searched for his lighter. Caitlyn forced herself not to frown. What the hell had everybody with that stuff? Walter and Mira – they were vampires, for God's sake, why did they smoke?! - and of course almost every member of the Convention. Passive smoking would kill her someday.

"He will answer to my call," Caitlyn said sternly. "Let's begin with the important topics. You wanted the report on Cheddar, right?"

"We can only conceal so much information," Irons said. "Do you have any new clues, Miss Hellsing?" There it was again. In general, Caitlyn didn't mind being called Miss. At least that made her feel normal. How Irons said those words, however, made it sound derogatory. As if she was not good enough to sit with them.

Walsh wanted to light up his cigar. This moment, the tip fell off. Walsh stared at it. So did most of the others. The front part of the cigar, about half an inch, lay on the table, swinging slightly, then halting. The cut was perfectly clean. Caitlyn tried not to smile to herself.

"Excuse me, Sir Walsh, but Lady Hellsing does not wish anyone to smoke in her home." Walter, now in an adult form, the hair at shoulder length and in a tight ponytail, stepped out of the shadows. The wires had vanished behind his back. Walsh stared at him, then put down the cigar.

"Very well. Please begin your report, _Lady _Hellsing." Caitlyn was delighted seeing him force himself to say that. The majority of the old men watched her with disapproval. Only Penwood was smiling and Caitlyn returned it. She had won this time.

"There were a lot of vampire attacks in Great Britain recently. Much more than one country should have, statistically, and they became increasingly more scandalous. On the 14th of June, a young man from the small northern village Cheddar vanished without a trace. This went on for one week, until ten villagers had disappeared. Then a boy could escape, describing the local vicar as the murderer."

"We already know all that," Phillip Reese interrupted her. He was nobility as well and the unofficial leader of MI5, as far as Caitlyn knew. If somebody wanted to bring her down, then he would most likely be able to do so.

Caitlyn smiled as casual as she could. "Of course. To make this short: The vicar was a vampire, just turned, but immensely 'successful', if you excuse the word. Counting the villagers and police forces that were sent, there were 28 dead due to this monstrosity. No survivors. I sent my special subordinate to deal with it. She killed the vampire, the ghouls were destroyed. If you are interested in clean-up details, here's the report." She pushed the folder closer to the middle of the table.

"28 dead countrymen and women," Irons said. "Truly.. a tragedy."

Caitlyn crossed her legs and stared him dead in the eyes. To hell with all of them. They had been raised for their positions. She had just been thrown in, and yet here she was, putting away their trash. "Indeed, Sir Irons. But you cannot blame the poor villagers. The public knows nothing of the likes we have to deal with. But when we are already directing blame, I'd like to ask you to look at the timetable I included." Irons was loath to give in to her victory, but he opened the file. "As you can see," Caitlyn continued, "nobody died from the moment we were involved."

"What about the vampire?", Sir Penwood asked.

"I decided not to include him in the statistic, as he was already dead. The ghouls are not separately listed either." Caitlyn left out the obvious hole in her work: Finding the vampire that had turned the vicar in the first place. But then the two vampire teens had turned up and everything started to go head over heels.

"On August 12th, we were called to a murder site in Birmingham, near Route 17. Four families had been gruesomely slaughtered, their blood used to write satanic messages on the walls. But of course," she said, raising a hand when Reese wanted to say something, "you already know that. It turned out to be two teenagers, a boy and a girl. The boy was called Lief Midford, the girl Jessica Coben, according to the databases. They vanished two months ago. Their parents assumed they ran away together. Both had been recently turned. Again, my subordinate took care of it. Now to the interesting part." Walter gave her a little transparent bag. Mira had brought this from the operations, because she couldn't figure out what it was. Even though she didn't want to admit it, Caitlyn knew that pissed her.

"That's a chip the size of a usual SD card. We found it in the vampire's bodies. It's a transmitter, actually. It measures the mood and health of the specimen, as well as transmits the position. Also, it has a kill switch, meaning the vampire goes up in flames shortly after he dies, which happened with every of the destroyed vampires so far."

"Then how come you have this?", Walsh asked. For the first time, they had lost interest in trying to embarrass her.

"The mechanism failed to work. Now, gentlemen, if you don't have any smart ideas what this might mean, let me-"

Caitlyn was cut off by the noise of the communication system. "Sir Hellsing!" It was Joshua Radley, Caitlyn knew that immediately. He sounded terrified.

"What is it?", Caitlyn asked. There were shots in the background.

"We're under attack!"

"What?!" Caitlyn couldn't help herself. "Details. How many?"

"Around fifty, I don't know. They- oh God, no-" He broke off with a scream. Caitlyn swallowed. She couldn't speak. What the hell was going on?

"Walter." Her voice was barely a croak. It was drowned out by the panic of the old men.

"Miss Hellsing, we will leave immediately," Penwood said and jumped to his feet.

"I would not recommend this," Walter said softly. Penwood froze, staring at the red eyes glowing in the shadows. "It's for your own safety. We don't know how the situation is."

"Caitlyn, explain this!", Reese demanded, slamming his hands on the table. From outside, there were screams and gunshots. Caitlyn just stared at the speaker, unable to gather her thoughts.

_Bugger! _She jumped to her feet and hit the button so hard it hurt. "Havel, what's the situation?"

"Commander Havel is dead," a voice said, followed by shrill laughter. It was a young girl's voice. "Got his head ripped off by my ghouls. But I'm nice – we're fifty-two, numbers rising. I tell you, you people are _so_ tasty. But really, now I have to be off. There's somebody waiting for me. Ta~"

Caitlyn caught Sir Reese staring at her. No, not at her – he was staring into a fixed point in space. Then he hid his face in his hands and started to cry. The others stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Who is she?", Caitlyn asked.

"Miss Hellsing, you have no jurisdiction for this," Irons snubbed her.

Caitlyn ignored him. Those guys might be important political and economical figures in Britain, but these were her people dying out there. "Sir Reese, this is not the time for pity. _Who is she?_" Reese only whimpered and murmured something impossible to understand.

"Phillip, for God's sake!", Reese' MI6 colleague Robert Temples yelled, slamming his hand on the table. "Pull yourself together."

At this, Reese actually sat up, very slowly, and wiped his reddened eyes. Caitlyn had never seen eyes that bleak. His voice was only an agonized whisper. "She's my daughter."

_Basement of the Hellsing mansion_

Battling the Ottoman army. Attacking their base, driving them back to their own kingdom. Enemies would be impaled and shown off as a warning.

The son of the dragon, they called her. _Dracula. _Because it was unimaginable for a woman to lead an army. Her father had initiated her in the order of the dragon when she was five, pretending she was a boy. Then he gave her as a dead pledge to the Ottoman king. He left her alone. Even Radu left her alone. Left her to the Sultan to save himself. For a while she had still loved him, despite all that. But not for long. Radu even fought her later on. Her own brother had betrayed her. Because of him, her husband had killed himself. Vladimira could never forgive that.

The people had feared her. No wonder she earned the nickname "Țepeș", the impaler. She had learned the technique at the Ottoman court. The Sultan had probably regretted that soon.

But Vladimira had always believed law and order to be the most important pillar of a state. Otherwise, no country could survive. Hard measures were necessary, no matter if it was the enemy or your own people. She could not allow corruption or dawdlers.

Honesty was the most important thing of a person. Honesty, loyalty -

Mira opened her eyes and stared at the red velvet inside her coffin. It was evening, but not dark outside yet. She knew this without having to check. The dizzying smell of blood and gunpowder hung in the air. Screams echoed through halls. A battle going on? Maybe that was still the echos of her past coming from her own mind. Yes, she had always believed in honesty and loyalty.

Who was she kidding? She, a monster, trying to make herself believe she had been a good human? Yes, she had battled corruption and defended her countrymen against the Turks and all other enemies. But that didn't make up for all the suffering she had inflicted.

A sad little smile crept up on her face. "Congratulations, Vladimira, you had to become a monster to see you always were one," she said. Nobody had helped her when she was captured by the Turks. God turned away from her like everyone else.

The coffin opened and she rubbed her eyes. What was she thinking about that all of a sudden? A monster fighting with a non-existent conscience? Lovely.

Mira stood up. Walter was gone. Instead, she found two rectangular boxes on the table. One was about one foot long, the other one two and a half feet and flat. Attached to the smaller one was a handwritten note.

_The conference starts at 4. C. says you should better stay downstairs._

_Your new weapon has arrived now, so you shouldn't be bored. _

_There's also a little plaything that might interest you._

_~W_

Mira opened a smaller box. It was a black gun inscribed with _Jesus Christ is in Heaven now_.

_Funny_, she thought. _That's the same that stood on Paladin Anderson's glove. _She took the gun out of its container. It was heavy. Fifteen kilogram, she estimated. A human would never be capable of using such a weapon. Mira changed her shape to the adult she actually was. The weapon fit her perfectly. Only as a child, it would probably look a bit funny.

In the box was another note.

_13mm Anti-Freak pistol **Jackal**_

_39cm long, 16kg_

_6 round magazine, armour-piercing explosive rounds_

_casings: Macedonium silver, blessed mercury tips_

_gunpowder: Marvells chemical cartridge N.N.A.9_

She aimed. It felt good in her hand. "Perfect." She smiled. "Just as always, Walter." She could have told him this via telepathy, but he was probably busy helping Lady Caitlyn out against the old men. Mira would have liked a word with them, too, but that would probably not end well for Cait. It was not that they had imprisoned her, although she didn't appreciate of that either. But what really pissed her off was how they treated her master like she didn't belong to them. Caitlyn was the righteous Hellsing family's head. She of all people had to know that. But monsters weren't asked about their opinion.

And just like that she had to think about this morning again. Maybe Caitlyn had been right. Probably. Humans were so unique. Some wasted their limited lifetime, others not. Caitlyn belonged to the latter. She was the first to treat them like humans, despite knowing they were monsters.

Mira laid down the Jackal next to her other gun, the .454 Casull. The gun was well-crafted, but just not powerful enough to deal with somebody like Anderson. The Jackal on the other hand would turn the tide in her favour. Finally, she had an enemy worth fighting. Anderson was powerful, he could heal instantly, he was a skilled fighter – that would be fun. All those freaks the last months had bored her out of her mind, with Walter as the only distraction. He was the only real vampires around in all of Europe, as far as she knew. Iscariot was handling the regulars quietly, before they could even dream of becoming as powerful as her.

Mira went around the table and opened the longer box. Frowning, she took the blade out. It was two feet long and unusually thin for a sword. The cross-guard was golden, as was the round pommel. On the cross-guard was the word _Hellsing _in black letters_._ From the right side to the pommel ran delicate-looking golden spider threads. The grip itself was black. The blade looked like it was galvanized with silver. It was much smaller than any blade she had used for centuries. The hilt looked tiny in her slender hands. In the box was another note. Walter loved notes, for some reason.

_I figured you'd prefer the classy style._

_The blade is galvanized and blessed. _

_It should be able to transform with you._

Mira looked again. On the bottom of the note was something else written that had been erased. Even her sharp eyes needed a moment to read it.

_Thanks for using that shape_

The rest of the sentence was missing, probably never written. Mira smiled. "No problem at all, dragul meu." Saying those words felt incredibly strange. When had she called somebody dear the last time?

She changed her shape back to the young girl. The sword fit her perfectly now. It was delicately balanced and seemed to cut the air in a glistening silver semi-circle. She looked forward to meet Alexander Anderson again. A little sword fight with the bayonet-wielding paladin would prove to be interesting.

In the box was also a silver scabbard. There was a pattern on it, running along the edges in gold the same golden colour. It looked a bit like the morning sun. Mira fixed the scabbard to her belt and put it on. "Every weapon needs a name," she said aloud. She looked at the sword again and heard a voice she thought had been lost to history forever.

"Keep your guard up. Ah, too bad, you're dead. Too slow." Her body had been burning from exhaustion, but giving up was out of the question. She was only a young girl and he was nine years older than her and much stronger. No chance of winning against her older brother. But she enjoyed it nevertheless. A daughter of the dragon had to fight. Sitting at home to learn how to be a good wife was not her destiny. Even if it meant being introduced as a male.

Steel clanged on steel. Afterwards he always ruffled her hair. "Good work, little sister. Someday, you'll make a great warrior."

Mira smiled. "Mircea." She sheathed the sword. Today she was nostalgic, it seemed.

_Walter, how is the situation?_

_\- We're still in the conference room. The leader sounds like a little girl. She's probably here for you. _

_Then it would be rude not to welcome her properly. I can't wait to try my new sword._

\- _You like it?_

_It's wonderful._

There were fighting sounds from upstairs. She could smell gunpowder and blood. Finally a real battle again! She briefly wondered if she should test the Jackal. But then she decided it would be a waste. Such a special gun was reserved for a special opponent, not some little punks. She took the Casull instead.

Mira left her "bedroom" and turned to the right. On the left end of the corridor were the stairs. On the right was a throne-like chair. It had been Mira's idea to set it up there, for no particular reason. As Caitlyn was redesigning the mansion anyway, she had no objections.

"There you are. I thought you'd turn up sooner or later." Mira stopped, surprised. Somebody had already occupied the throne.

The girl smiled at her. "The countess is finally here."

_Hellsing mansion, third floor, conference room_

Caitlyn threw a pleading glance to her butler. At least he had to have an idea how to deal with this. But Walter seemed to be lost in thoughts. He was probably talking with Mira right now.

Everybody was talking at once, shouting questions or reproaches at her or his peers.

"Explain this!", Walsh barked at Phillip Reese, who was sobbing quietly on his place.

"Miss Hellsing, do we have a back-up plan?", Irons asked her, his voice icy.

"The helicopter upstairs," Caitlyn stuttered. She was interrupted by an explosion shaking the whole room. Dust rained on the table.

"I'd say that was the helicopter," Walter said. Caitlyn tried to ignore the joy in his voice. He was just waiting for her to send him into battle. "I'm afraid we will have to hold out here for a while longer," he continued, "The police will not notice any of this until at least eight p.m., giving us roughly three hours. The main objective should therefore be to guard this lone entrance against the attackers."

Penwood jumped to his feet again. "Who will be held responsible for this?", Temples barked.

They were shouting at each other again. Caitlyn was getting a headache.

_Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well; and yet words are not deeds. _

"COULD EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!", she shrieked. The Lords froze and stared at her. Even Reese had stopped whimpering. Caitlyn fell back in her chair. "Thank you. This is not the right time for behaving like chickens. You heard the girl, her army is made up of ghouls. That means..." Caitlyn swallowed. "My men are probably all dead. We're all alone here. Either we wait for help or we help ourselves. Otherwise we'll get eaten, if you prefer that."

"We're all going to die," Penwood muttered. He was so pale Caitlyn wouldn't have been surprised if he just passed out in a few seconds.

"Not at all, Sir Penwood," Walter said in a gentle voice, as if talking to a child. "We still got all the forces we need to defend the council _and _mop up this mess."

"What would that be?", Walsh growled. Caitlyn rubbed her temples. Did they really not know? She had not exactly posted it all over the world that she had actually two vampires. Walter had always seemed to prefer it that way. After what happened in 1944, Caitlyn could understand that well.

"Sir Reese, please explain everything you know about this."

Reese was pale and his voice was shaking. "Emily... is my daughter. My little girl..." He buried his face in his hands and continued. "She was kidnapped two years ago."

"Right, I remember," Penwood said, happy to be able to contribute something. "Did you ever get a ransom demand?"

Reese shook his head. "Never. We searched everywhere. She just... vanished. She would have turned ten today. What am I saying?" He laughed shakily. "She does turn ten today. She's alive. We were always hoping..." He wiped his eyes with a handkerchief just to break down in tears again. "What did they do to her? What happened to my little girl?"

"We will find out," Caitlyn said with determination. She didn't allow herself to doubt the hopes she could set in the girl. Listening to her, she had lost her mind a long time ago. But she couldn't tell Phillip Reese. "Walter?"

"It seems that all floors have fallen to the enemy. Emily is confronting Mira as we speak."

Caitlyn stared at the dead receiver. Ghouls. Who would think of using ghouls?

"They ate my men. They did whatever to an innocent little girl. Walter, take care of those ghouls and question whoever is in charge."

"Lady Hellsing, may I...?" He didn't finish the sentence. Caitlyn closed her eyes. Monsters don't love. Monsters are monsters. Reckless, fearful, cruel.

"Yes, you may. And tell Mira not to kill the girl."

Walter turned around to go. His red eyes glowed. Caitlyn always suspected he did that just to look a bit scarier. "I'm afraid it's too late for that, Milady."

_Hellsing mansion, basement_

Mira looked the girl up and down. She was no older than ten, but styled like a model: Tight black jeans, a dark blue shirt, black leather boots. The reddish hair was in a high ponytail. Her green eyes were accentuated with black. She didn't really look like a little girl. The thin legs were folded over the armrest. She had a gun in hand and strapped to her belt was a sword.

Mira stepped forward. "Excuse me, but I think you're sitting in my spot."

"That's a throne," the girl said with a grin. "And a throne is for queens only. Of course you _are _the no-life-queen. But not for long, I can promise you. I'm here to defeat you, _Alucard._"

Mira frowned. "I don't think we met before. And I had hoped the times when I was called this ridiculous name are over."

The girl stood up and carelessly strolled up to her. "Emily Reese. I'm a big fan of you, actually. I know everything there is to find. You were my role model. Until I decided I would just surpass you, that is." The girl opened the safety bolt of the gun. "This day will be your last, Vladimira Țepeș."

"You even pronounce it correctly. I'm impressed," Mira said with a smile. "Well then, show me what you have, little Emily."

Emily pressed the muzzle of her gun to Mira's head. Mira drew the_ Casull_. They pulled the trigger at the same time. Emily's bullet hit straight in the head. Mira hit the girl in the chest. They both fell back, laughing. When Mira stood up again, Emily started to fire. Mira took the bullets without flinching, but made no attempt at returning fire.

"Let's make this more interesting." She drew _Mircea. _Emily put away the gun and followed her example. "The classic way," she said, amused. "This doesn't save you."

"I don't think I need saving."

They rushed forward, their blades meeting loudly, sparks flying. She was a formidable fighter, despite her lacking experience. But her reflexes were excellent, Mira had to give her that. She was a lot faster than most natural vampires. _How fitting that I got my new sword just today. _

Mira retreated, making Emily stumble forward. Her sword dug into Mira's thigh. Blood dripped on the ground. "Not bad at all, little girl."

"I'll beat you and be the new Number One! You're powerful, but I'm better!" Mira swung the sword from above, but Emily dodged it with ease. Instead, the flat side of the sword met her face. Mira landed on her butt.

_Our grandmother, may she rest in peace, could do better than that!_, she heard Mircea's voice. _Alright, I might be a bit out of practise_, Mira replied sourly.

_\- Who are you talking to?_, Walter asked, confused.

Mira snapped out of her memories. Where was she with her thoughts today? _Nobody. Forget it._

Emily stood over her, sword loosely in hand. She sneered. "I don't get it. Why are you occupying such a ridiculous form?"

"Why not? It's quite fitting to yours, after all."

Emily buried the blade in Mira's thigh. The pain was sharp, but the vampire queen didn't pay attention. "I have no choice in this," Emily snarled. "Whereas you..." She pulled the sword out again and swung it in a horizontal semi-circle. Mira let the tip grate her cheek. Emily shot past her, turned around and tried to judge the best angle for a new attack.

"Besides, what's up with that accent?"

Mira felt irritation stirring in the back of her mind. She stood up and brushed dust off her suit. "What about it?"

"You had five hundred years to learn proper English."

Mira raised her sword, faking an attack. "Well, that's just how I talk. And you're not privileged to judge this." Emily fell for her trap. She stumbled and seemed to attempt an answer. Then she was too busy screaming, clutching the stump where her lower leg had been. The sword clattered to the floor, into a pool of fresh blood. Mira stood up. "'You're powerful, but I'm better.' Those were your words, little girl." Emily scrambled up, desperately hopping for the door on her one leg. Mira didn't need to hurry. She put the sword away and followed. What a disappointment.

"If you want to surpass me, then why don't you fight? Regenerate, pick up your weapon, summon your familiars! Where is your superior strength?"

Emily had reached the stairs. "S-Stay away from me!" She was crying. Mira drew the Casull and the bullet hit Emily's sole thigh. The girl screamed and fell. "Stay away, you freak!"

Mira stopped and looked down on the whimpering girl. "And you call yourself a vampire? I've seen freshly turned draculinas fight better than that." Emily lunged for her, her teeth snapping shut only an inch in front of Mira's face. She seemed to deflate, coughing up blood and staring helplessly at her own sword sticking out of her solar plexus.

Mira let go, dropping her curled up opponent like an annoying bug. "You know what Țepeș means? It's Rumanian for "the impaler". Since you know so much about me, tell me why I got that name."

"Because... Because you impaled everyone breaking the law," Emily gurgled, tasting her own blood. The sword had missed her heart, but she had no illusions about getting out of here again. She could see the Countess standing over her. When did she think she could win against such an all-mighty enemy? Emily fought to keep her mind fixed. She would die now. For what? She didn't even know. There was only one thing she knew for sure: The Countess was incredibly beautiful.

_Hellsing mansion, first floor, half an hour later_

"That is no way of treating a lady, is it? Especially not my lady." The wire wrapped lazily around the man's ankle and pulled him back. He tried to free himself, sobbing, crawling like the worm he was. "Stay here if you want to keep that foot," Walter commanded without bothering to raise his head. The man whimpered miserably and dropped back to his belly. Walter pulled the strings a bit tighter and relaxed again.

His head lay in Mira's lap. She leaned against the wall of the corridor. The floor was surprisingly comfortable. She stroked his hair, which was a definitive plus.

The corridor had been strewn with the corpses of the ghouls before, but they had cleaned up quite well so far. Now that the trash was taken out, they had a little time left to play. Or just relax, a more fitting description. Fortunately there had been a whole unit of human mercenaries left, that should "mop up the remains of Hellsing", as their leader had put it. There was not much more to get out of them, but at least they made good evening snacks. They needed to clean up afterwards, of course. Caitlyn or the old men didn't need to see this. Both vampires were blood-splattered, but changing that didn't really make sense for now.

"You think we should go back to Caitlyn?", Mira asked, staring contemplatively at a shredded torso.

Walter didn't open his eyes. "Nah. We still have time. They'll survive waiting for another quarter of an hour." Mira flicked the wrist of her left hand and a stream of blood rose in the air. One half went to her, the other just dripped down. Walter licked the hot liquid off his lips. Not exactly virgin blood, of course, but good enough.  
"Pretty sad about all the guards," he said.

"Is it?", Mira asked, her fingers brushing through his black hair. "How can monsters like us tell?"

"For Caitlyn, I guess. Personally, I didn't know them much and don't give a damn. Wouldn't have as a human, either, for that matter."

"How do you know?"

He avoided the question. Instead, he raised one hand and traced the line of her jaw with his fingers. "You keep saying such things. You think we don't have a right to feel because we're not human anymore?"

"We're _monsters,_" Mira corrected.

"I don't think that's a bad thing."

Mira seemed genuinely surprised now. "Really? You were furious when you were turned."

Walter shrugged his shoulders. "I can't really imagine what it means to be so old. Slowly losing your abilities and just crumbling away."

"That's it?", Mira asked skeptically. "You don't want to be old?"

Her fingers caressed his forehead and he sighed. "Pretty much. You know, Sir Arthur said to me once that people that were useless were worthless as well. I was just a kid back then. No idea why it stuck for so long. But that's it. I don't want to be useless."

"So you're okay with being a monster."

"I was not a very nice human either."

"You were young," Mira said softly. "Young men often do stupid things."

"That's a nice way of seeing it," he said with a smile, but without opening his eyes. They were quiet for a while. Caitlyn and the Convention members were probably still cowering in fear up there. The old men more than Lady Hellsing, probably. She was a tough girl.

"So you like being a night walker?", Mira eventually asked.

"Yes. And you know why? I can be myself."

"What do you mean?"

He grinned. "I'm getting philosophical with old age it seems. We can be whoever we want. If this is being a monster, it's true freedom."

"Yes," Mira said in a low voice. She didn't seem to believe it.

"I'd love to know who turned me," Walter suddenly said.

"Why?"

"To thank her." He could literally see Mira's confusion. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. Red in red. "I want to thank her for giving me these possibilities." A soft smile spread on her face.

"I hoped you would say that someday." The same instant she realized he had succeeded into making her reveal the truth she had kept hidden for almost 70 years.

"So it was you after all."

She didn't argue. "Are you angry?"

He thought about it a moment. "We all lie." Walter sat on her legs astride. They kissed, tasting the blood they had shed on each others' lips. "But why did you do it? And why not tell me?"

For the first time since they knew each other, Mira actually turned her eyes away. "I knew what Sir Arthur intended to do. And... I didn't know how long it would be. If you would still be there when I came back."

"So you just decided I'd be better off as an immortal."

Mira rested her head in the crook of his neck. "Did I go wrong?"

He had to admit she was right. "Thank you," he said, curling a long black strand of her hair around his finger. "And I've got to say, you're a devilish good actress, countess." She didn't answer. Unless biting him was an answer. Only lightly, just enough to draw blood. She caught the drops and licked them off. "Not half bad, dragostea."

They were silent for a while. Then, Walter pulled back, blood seeping into his collar. "I hope I don't offend you with that question, but... Why the accent? Your English is perfect."

"Don't you like it? I thought you did." It was astounding how much she resembled a little girl now.

She frowned when he suddenly started laughing. "What?"

"'The figures have no meaning to me'? You sure about that? Because I don't remember you to be so cheesy." Mira scowled. She hadn't even noticed changing her form, but here she was – in a dress and looking just like she had over five hundred years ago, in her childhood in Walachia.

"They don't change who I am."

"But they influence your personality," Walter responded with a grin. Mira ignored him. She changed her form back to the girl in the suit. He gently raised her head, obviously wanting to kiss her again. But something else had caught her eye. Aside from that, Lady Vladimira didn't exactly approve of being made fun of, no matter how true it might be. She straightened up, almost knocking Walter off her legs. "Where's that human?"

Walter looked around. The mercenary was gone. In their conversation neither of them had noticed him go. "Ah, crap."

"If he's clever, he left the mansion and never comes back."

"When are humans ever clever?" They looked at each other, having the exact same thought.

"Now we're in trouble."

_Hellsing mansion, third floor, conference room_

There had been no sounds from outside for quite a while. No gunshots anymore, not even screams. The conference room was quiet as well, except for Phillip Reese' quiet sobbing. No conversation had been going on. Some seemed to be in shock, Walsh and Irons shot Caitlyn glares from time to time. Penwood constantly wiped sweat off his brow. It was just a matter of time until he lost his nerves. He was a friendly and reliable man, but not very brave.

Caitlyn was just staring at the dead receiver. Walter had already told her the conference could go on as planned, but of course nobody thought about that anymore. Caitlyn was secretly praying Mira and Walter didn't mess around. The old men already doubted her qualities as a peer. She couldn't afford anyone doubting her ability to control the two vampires.

"How long can they take to clean this mess?", Walsh asked sourly. Many started out of their apathy when he raised his voice. "Shouldn't we go outside now?"

"It would be safer to wait until we know for sure there is no danger left," Caitlyn answered without really listening. "We should rather figure out who is responsible for this."

"For God's sake, Caitlyn!", Penwood barked, jumping to his feet. "Who knows what those monsters are doing-"

Caitlyn slammed her hands on the table and slowly stood up. She was shaking from the effort to stay calm. As much as she liked him, some lines should never be crossed. The Convention members actually looking at her – everyone except for Reese – instinctively shrank back a bit from her flashing eyes. Caitlyn's voice was very quiet. "Sir Penwood, I understand your concern," she said as calm as she managed. "But DO NOT question my subordinates' loyalty."

Penwood, even paler than before, sat down. He mumbled something like "Of course not" and wiped his forehead again.

The door slammed open. _They're finally here. _Caitlyn frowned as she caught herself thinking that. But it were not her subordinates, but a tall, dark-haired man in an unmarked uniform. A mercenary.

Why again didn't they barricade the door? The Convention members drew guns. Caitlyn glowered at them. She didn't like anyone bringing weapons in her home, but they didn't even bother ask. Her new life left her no choice than to accept it.

The man didn't seem much of a threat anyway. He was pale, making the blood on his face and clothes stand out even more, and sobbing miserably. He stormed in, ignoring the guns pointed at him and slammed the door shut. "Arrest me!", he demanded in a shaking voice.

"What?", Caitlyn asked, so somebody said _something. _The others were as flustered as she was and kept silent. The man fell to his knees in front of her.

"I don't care if I go to jail, I'll tell you everything I know," he whimpered, "but protect me from these monsters, I'm begging you!" Caitlyn knew this voice. Despite being shrill with panic and thick with terror, it was a nice voice. It was the mercenary from five years ago. _So it comes around_, she thought. Caitlyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was not the presence of the man that had started all this five years ago. She didn't believe in revenge. Especially not for people who just did their job. There were bigger problems right now. Mira and Walter had not directly disobeyed her orders, of course... What could she expect from vampires?

There was a discreet knock on the door. The mercenary with the formerly nice voice howled and dived under the table. Nobody tried to prevent him from that. If he was not an Oscar-worthy actor, he was no threat.

Caitlyn turned her chair around and sat down. "Come in," she sighed.

The door opened and revealed her two vampires, both blood-splattered. Although Walter was worse. Both didn't seem to notice or just ignored it. "I'm very sorry for the disturbance, Lady Hellsing," Walter said. "We'll remove the target, so the conference can go on."

The man under the table whimpered, but tried to stay silent it seemed. Caitlyn didn't have to turn around to feel the horrified stares of the old men. "No, he will stay here. We'll question him and turn him over to the Military Police. Is he the last one?"

"Yes, milady."

"You were ordered to clean up and question the leaders-", Walsh barked. Mira interrupted him with a toothy smile. She played confused little girl again. God, this was just creepy.

"But that was exactly what we did. We destroyed the ghouls and questioned the leaders. There was no order saying we should keep them alive."

"Right," Walsh said slowly. He looked under the table. "Get out of there! Do you really want to be protected by a little girl, you coward?"

Caitlyn ignored being called a little girl and walked over to Mira and Walter. "Anyone else?", she asked, just for formality's sake. The two vampires looked at each other. _Oh bloody hell, didn't they even __check__?! _Caitlyn tried not to show anything.

There was a turmoil. The mercenary had begun to crawl out under the table, but had collapsed half of the way. "Seems like he's not fit for his job," Robert Temples joked.

"No, he's dead," Mira said as though it was no big deal. Caitlyn shot her a glare. Mira raised her hands. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear. But his heart is not beating anymore."

Caitlyn cursed silently. How much could go wrong in one day? Not even that – in only two hours? She turned the man on his back. His eyes were open and glassy. In one eye there was a spot of blood. "Somebody implanted a chip in his eye. They set off the kill switch before he could tell us anything."

"Are you an expert on this now?", Irons asked pointedly polite.

"No," Caitlyn said. "But we already know about the chips and exactly this method was on _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.. _The first seasons are in rerun at the moment, you know?"

"A TV series?", Irons growled.

For the first time since all of this started, Phillip Reese moved again. "My daughter! Where's Emily?" He jumped up and ran at the door. "You better haven't hurt her!", he roared.

Mira politely stepped aside, but he stopped in the door, throwing wild glances. "Emily! Emily!"

Reese spun and grabbed Mira's shoulders. Grief and hope had made him unable to fear the vampire, it seemed. "What did you do to her?!"

"She is downstairs," Mira said. She didn't move or try to free herself. She just calmly returned the glance. Phillip Reese was running wild. To stop him, they would have to kill or severely injure him. "I can't say she's still in one piece."

Reese howled like a wounded animal. "You monster! That will have consequences, Miss Hellsing!" His face was pale and full of agony.

Caitlyn felt all colour leave her face. She had given specific _orders_! Did Mira intend to get her into trouble? After all, she was completely powerless should the vampires decide one day not to do what she said. Unlike Caitlyn, they didn't see a problem, but Emily had been a _child_!

"But she is alive," Mira went on as if nothing had happened. Reese froze and stared at her. "At least _I_ did not kill her."

"But what if she has one of these chips?", Reese asked miserably. In response, Mira took a bloody piece of metal out of her pocket. "I had the order to let her live and no one should interfere with that, right, master?" She gave the chip to Reese, who stared at it. Blood tainted his hand now. He dropped it like a hot potato.

Caitlyn was so relieved she thought she might lose her balance. "Yes. Good work, you two."

"I would not say that," Irons said. He had gone to the door and looked down the corridor. There were noises, scratching and moaning on the marble. "What do you say to this, Miss Hellsing?"

Caitlyn had to restrain herself so she didn't run to the door. She suppressed a gasp. _No. God, no._

Her men were stumbling in her direction. Or what was left of them. The uniforms were torn and soaked with drying blood. Ghouls have a certain greenish skin and glowing violet eyes. Without the human restraints of pain they can just unhinge their jaws for better biting. The fingernails become suddenly sharp. Caitlyn thought, almost disembodied, that the jaw muscles were the strongest in the human body. No wonder that vampires were so fearful if even a human could do serious damage with his teeth. Caitlyn was staring at her fallen men, frozen in terror. Somewhere in her head, a mean little voice was saying: _This is your fault. You killed them. This is your fault. You killed them. _It went on and on. Badrick had been a horrible sight, even without Alexander Anderson almost killing her. It still didn't compare to this. These were her people.

A ghoul had almost reached her and wanted to dig his claws into her. With horror she realized it was Joshua Radley, the young man she had spoken with just this morning. She had sworn herself to be a better leader just then. And here she was, only able to wonder. Did he have a family? Parents? Siblings? Maybe a girlfriend?

"Caitlyn!" Before Radley – the ghoul, she told herself, he was not a human anymore, not even a person – she was pulled back by Walter, before the ghoul could get a bite out of her leg. She was ripped out of her rigidity. Phillip Reese was ploughing through the ghouls, not paying attention to the presence of the undead and ignoring Robert Temple and the other men shouting after him. The ghouls in turn did nothing to attack him either. This didn't make sense at all.

Caitlyn's throat felt too tight to speak. "Mira, please accompany him. Protect him, take care the girl doesn't hurt anyone, she'll need medical attention." Mira shot her an ironic glance when she said "medical attention", but didn't comment on it. She followed Reese, casually beheading two of the ghouls in her path.

Caitlyn stared at her fallen men. _Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day_._ And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. _

"Walter, please... put them out of their misery."

"No." She flinched. Irons' voice was like a razor cutting in her thoughts. Had she really expected she got out of this easily? Of course not. She didn't deserve it. Caitlyn slowly turned, tying to keep a straight face. Irons offered her a revolver. "This is a commander's job."

Walter stepped forward, his voice a threatening notch deeper than usual. "Sir Irons, this is not-"

Irons ignored him. "I will not accept that this was unavoidable. The fact that these men are dead or undead is entirely your fault. Isn't this correct, Miss Hellsing?"

Walter growled, a low sound lacking anything human. Caitlyn raised her hand and he fell silent, confused. "No, Sir Irons is right," she whispered. "It is my fault."

She took the gun, desperately fighting the tears in her burning eyes. She would not give those royal vultures the satisfaction of breaking down now. She would not cry now and disgrace her men's sacrifice with her weakness.

"There should have been a plan for this case," Walsh said.

"Caitlyn-", Walter growled. He had heard the satisfaction in Walsh's voice. They just waited for an opportunity to prove Caitlyn's incapability to lead Hellsing. A retarded society of royal duties and isolation from the ordinary citizen. That was all the great Convention of 12 was. Unfortunately they were also running the empire (what empire?) behind the scenes.

"Hush," Caitlyn said. The ghoul that had once been a young man named Joshua Radley tried to grab her. She set the muzzle of the gun to his head. _It will have blood, they say. Blood will have blood._

Caitlyn pulled the trigger.


	8. Trapped under Ice

**Chapter 7: Trapped under ice**

_Bucharest, Romania, August 29th, 2016_

Icy water pierced his skin like needles. It was soaking him, enveloping him in darkness, blinding, stinging in the cuts on his face. He was already starting to feel numb. Maybe that was good. At least it was better than the pain. _Am I to die here? Just like that? _The thought brought no emotion. All he felt was the darkness and cold and pain.

A brutal hand in his hair dragged his head back. There was a loud splashing. All of a sudden there was air again. He could breathe again. He could. If his lungs didn't refuse to work, that was.

"Don't you dare dying, Monsignore!", someone said. The man punched him in the rips. There was a small crack and pain shot through his body. The cramps hit him with full force. He started coughing, blinded, drawing air in agonized gasps. The Romanian let go of him and Enrico collapsed on the floor. He spat out the rests of the icy, metallic-tasting water. But his burning lungs filled with air. Breathing was a privilege people didn't appreciate enough.

The cramps lessened and went away after a while. He was still hurting all over but this was the worst part. A soaked strand stuck to a cut on his cheek. His hand was trembling so bad he needed three attempts at brushing it away.

"Do you have to say anything, Monsignore? Let's try something easier. Like what happened in 1999 at a certain small Canadian lake." What kind of question was that? Before it had been about the interrogations. What did the Vatican know about Millennium? A lot, but Enrico never said so. He wouldn't betray his Church, despite being an Iscariot – how ironic.

Enrico could hear the Romanian smile. This hurt the bishop more than the Romanian. The heathen didn't even have to move a finger. He had his henchman for that. The other man was tall and dark-haired. His face never betrayed any emotion. He hadn't spoken yet, not once uttered a sound. None of them had given any names, not even fake ones.

Enrico didn't attempt to answer. The Romanian had stopped threatening him yesterday. It was unnecessary. They knew what punishment followed on disobedience. Enrico somehow got up so he could at least kneel. In front of him was the basin, filled with water. Ice cubes faintly clacked sometimes. It was freezing in here, the more with his soaked hair and shirt.

Lisa was tied to a chair, forced to watch. Another of their little tricks. But as long as he didn't give in, she wouldn't either. Where were Anderson and the girls? He had made the track so obvious.

_Maybe too obvious. _If anyone had removed the clues... nobody would ever come to help them. The only thing left to do was pray. Lisa's eyes locked to his. _Don't freak out. This is not just about you._

"No? Pity. You think I like doing that?"

"That doesn't bring you anywhere -" However the Romanian saw that, the silent henchman grabbed Enrico's hair and pushed his head under water again. He got water in the windpipe and started coughing. There was no air, just the cold biting into his wounds. Normally he didn't try to fight. Saving his strength was the only logical way. Not that it worked quite well. He had never been particularly good at standing pain.

The cramps were setting in again. They seized control of his body, punishing him with agony. His lungs felt like they were about to burst. Suddenly Enrico had to think about the novel of this blaspheme American. _Angels &amp; Demons._ One of the cardinals had died in quite a similar manner.

But, in some way, Enrico was glad he was underwater. The pain became almost unbearable. If he had been able to speak, he would have told them anything. But when he could breathe again and looked to his sister, he was strong enough to withstand. At least for a little while longer. Only a little. Every time he told himself that it wouldn't take the others much longer to get there. That was what it had been for two days now.

Somehow, surprisingly, the pain began to subside. The water grew even colder, but maybe because he was colder. But the pain went away. Blackness swallowed the dull gray of the water.

_Jesus._

They had been playing by a small lake near their home. Not the one with the drain, though. Neither of them had been near there for more than a year. This one was a bigger lake, used for ice fishing. Winter was almost over, but in the distance there were new clouds loaded with new snow to add to the two feet of it that was already lying everywhere. The lake was still frozen as well.

Or so they had thought. Now the ice didn't look so safe anymore. Enrico could see black water gurgling way too close under their feet. Both were standing completely still. Lisa was closer to the middle of the lake. There the cracks in the ice were worse.

She was close to crying. After all, she was only ten. He was already twelve, way to old for something so stupid. He needed to focus. Protecting her was his duty as her older brother.

"Dammi la tua mano," he said. Lisa looked at him with the blank stare of someone scared out of his mind. She had still trouble understanding his Italian. "Take my hand," Enrico repeated. "We'll exchange places."

"No!" She shook her head violently. The ice crunched. She tensed.

"Sí!", he answered with determination. "This is an ice clod. We have to keep the balance." Lisa pressed her lips together and slowly raised her hand. He grabbed her. Enrico didn't dare to show his fear. She was already scared enough. He didn't want to die, but he had to be strong. _Is this a test, God? _"You go right, I go left, va bene?" _First that guy, now this. Why? It's not right. We're..._ He broke off before finishing the thought. Wasn't this what he always wanted? To be treated like an adult? He had never thought this would be so hard.

"Lentamente, sí?" She nodded. He tried to smile. It felt horrible. Probably looked awful, too.

They carefully circled each other, their boots scraping over the ice. Only one foot set on the ground too violently and everything would go to hell. It was an agonizingly slow process, but then Lisa stood in Enrico's place. She held his gaze all the time.

He tried another smile. It felt a bit better now. Just a bit tense. "Go back to the shore. I'll wait here until Mamma or somebody gets me. I'm sure the ice will hold long enough." The cracking sound under his feet seemed to disagree. He let go of her hand. Lisa made a step back. The ice crunched, but held. Another one. More crunching. Another one. The noises were fainter.

Her feet touched the shore. Earth, grass and snow under her boots. She was safe. Enrico smiled, now a real smile, relieved. If God wanted him to step in front of him already now, he wouldn't want to have Lisa there as well. She was way too young.

Enrico looked down. The balance of the only partially broken clod had shifted towards him. The last ice holding it was giving way. All of a sudden, Enrico had a weird thought: If anyone would ask him what he regretted the most the answer would be dying without getting rid of his Italian accent.

The ice splintered under his feet and there was only cold water and darkness.

"_ENRICO!" _That voice again. She was crying. That wasn't right. She shouldn't cry, no matter for what reason. Her voice was distorted, like listening underwater.

It was cold, so cold. The cold was burning his skin, the wounds in his face. Somebody grabbed his hair. It should hurt, he supposed, but he barely felt it. There was a loud splashing sound and cold air rushed over him. Suddenly, he was aware of the metallic-tasting water in his mouth, the foul air and that he wasn't breathing.

He was pushed and hit something hard he lay on. The impact sent a bolt of red pain through his body. He started coughing, spitting out water. But as much as it hurt, every breath was liberating. How long had this been going on? He had lost track. It didn't matter anyway. Enrico had a better idea how close he had been to entering God's domain than he wanted to.

"Enrico!" Lisa's voice was full of panic. He wanted to tell her he would be alright, even if that wasn't true. But he couldn't talk. Breathing was all his exhausted body was capable of at the moment. He could thank God he was able to do even that.

"Idiot!", the Romanian barked at his henchman. "You could have killed him!"

Enrico blinked away the water in his eyes. He was curled up on the floor, instinctively trying to protect the spots that hurt most. Splashes of water had even reached his jeans. Despite the burning of his skin, he was shivering with cold.

Lisa was struggling against the ropes holding her. As if that would help them in any way. Despite a few bruises and cuts she was more or less unharmed. So far, he had been able to keep the worst away from her.

"I think that's enough for today," the Romanian said and threw him a towel. "Next time you might actually die. I won't risk that." He went over to Lisa and opened the knots. "You know how it works. You do something I don't like, your brother gets it." The silent man dragged Enrico to feet he barely felt. Nobody tried anything. Where was the point of wasting their strength?

They were pushed into the room Enrico had found Lisa on that first day. The door slammed shut behind them and draped everything in darkness. They sat down in front of the pipes, the only spot that was slightly warmer. There was water and also some food on a tray, but except for that, the room was empty. Nothing to fight with. All they could do is try to rest.

Enrico laid his arm around Lisa and she rested her head on his shoulder, despite the wet clothes and hair. God, it was _cold. _He had already draped the towel over his hair. Getting sick was the last thing he needed. What an idiotic thought.

"I'm sorry," Lisa suddenly whispered.

Enrico was startled out of his thoughts. "Che?"

"I'm a paladin," she said, her voice quivering with anger. Only there was no one to blame except for her. "They just caught us. No superior numbers, just a plain old, stupid trap. And we lost the fight."

She cuddled closer to him and he stroked her cheek. They hadn't spoken about what had happened yet. But who was he to criticize a fight? A bureaucrat like him couldn't judge this.

"It happened too fast. We were scanning the building and I got knocked out from behind. Next thing I know, Jack was screaming. They killed them and then brought me here."

"None of this is your fault. Jack was an experienced paladin. He should have made a better plan."

Lisa giggled. It sounded lonely and rough. "It's lovely how you manage to direct all blame away from us two. You can't confess mistakes and don't want me to." She laid a finger on his lips when he wanted to argue. "But I made a mistake and have to stand for it." There was a long silence. Enrico was almost drifting off when she spoke again. "You're a fool."

"What?"

"You're the biggest fool I ever met."

_I'm not a fool! Stop saying that! I'm-_

"All they wanted is capture you. And you are stupid or blind enough to do them that favor!"

"Should I just leave you? That's a sacrifice I'm not willing to make."

"You mean like Abraham and Issac? Wouldn't you do this for God?"

"This has nothing to do with God. Are you questioning my belief?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Are you cold?"

"A bit." Which was an outright lie. He was freezing, but what could he possibly do about that?

Lisa nudged him gently to keep him from falling asleep. "Why do they ask about that day when we were kids all of a sudden?"

"They are out of ideas," he replied wearily. "If they ask about that, they already know. It's just Millennium keeping us busy."

"But... How can they know? That was almost 18 years ago." Then, barely audible: "He was never found. Nobody even asked us, nobody was there. How?"

"I don't know. I thought it was about the interrogations."

Lisa stirred. She was angry. "Yeah. That. Why did you keep me out?"

"We involved as few as possible. It was a test for our people as well. That wasn't necessary with you, obviously." She laughed. It was good to hear that she still could. She sat up and looked at him. He knew that, although the darkness around was complete. "And what if I'm a double-agent?"

Enrico actually laughed now, too. "I really doubt that."

"You would have to kill me."

"You would never side with people like them."

"Just assume I did. Would you let me go?" She took his hands.

_For God's sake, what is the point? _"I can't answer that."

Lisa rested her head on his chest again. "Thought so."

He changed the topic. "All secrecy was for nothing if the camerlengo is working with them."

"You think he is?"

"The only one that would make sense. Ian Foster is one of the Holy Father's closest advisers. And that order had his handwriting all over it."

"I see."

Enrico stared into the dark. His body was tired, but his mind was caught in a loop of worries and scheduling he might never be able to actually hand over to anyone. "That's why Iscariots are not supposed to have families." The other bishops had sneered at him because he was so young when he was appointed. Hell, he still was the youngest bishop they had. But after Director Kerr's death he had been the only fitting candidate. Then, when Lisa came to Iscariot, they sneered at him, because the two of them were so close to each other. Nobody ever respected his hard work.

Enrico was painfully aware of the icy water, the hard and rough concrete, the pain in his body and Lisa's icy hand in his. They were frowned upon, rumors went around. Enrico pretended not to care. He had only his own conscience and God to answer to. His conscience told him he was not committing a sin. What God thought would remain to be seen. Why should he have given her to him then? That wouldn't make sense. It was His will.

Brother and sister, partners, best friends. Always and forever. Nothing more, nothing less. Obeying the rules of their Church they defended by breaking them.

Oh yes, they were true Iscariots.

_Ventinove, Trenta, Trentuno, Trentadue..._The counting helped fighting the panic that was already threatening in the background again. Normally it took around a minute until the demand of his body for air grew painful.

"Enough!" The words were blurry but their meaning could have been on a plasma TV and not been clearer. So fast already? The silent henchman yanked his head out of the water. He had been under water for barely more than thirty seconds, but it was still a relief.

An interruption meant something was wrong, making things unpredictable. He hated things being unpredictable. Nevertheless, Enrico could enjoy the feeling of not having to fight for every painful breath. The fist hitting his cheekbone kind of ruined that moment. He felt the crust on the same spot reopening. Blood trickled over his cheek and mixed with the water.

He would have fallen, but the silent henchman still had his hair in an already painful grip. So all the punch did was snapping his head around and costing him another few strands. Pain bloomed on his cheek and he tasted blood. Fortunately, the cold water had already numbed the skin a bit.

"Really, Monsignore. What do your subordinates think, just going on hunting Millennium?"

"Did you think capturing me would stop us? We can't afford letting such little things put us off with the death toll Iscariot has." A fist hit his solar plexus. Enrico gasped, his whole body feeling like it would be turned inside out. He would have doubled over, but the silent henchman was still holding him. _You'll pay for what you did to my hair._

"Your spirit is far stronger than expected. Let's see how she does." Just for a moment, Enrico's gaze flickered to Lisa. She was sitting there like a statue, not betraying any emotion. But the Romanian had seen it. Enrico cursed himself. _Families are weaknesses. _

The Romanian opened the knots holding her and pressed the tip of a dagger in her back. The moment she made a wrong move, it would pierce her heart. How old-fashioned. Just fitting for such an old weapon. Lisa didn't attempt to struggle. She just stood there, patiently waiting for a chance to strike. She was a trained fighter, for God's sake!

Lisa froze when she felt the Romanian grabbing her butt. _This dirty pig. I should have known. _

The silent henchman shoved Enrico in the chair and fastened the rope around his left wrist. The other hand was still free and he made no attempt to tie it to the other armrest. It had only been a few seconds, but the Romanian just whispered to Lisa: "Don't move, sweetie."

"Leave her alone!", Enrico roared. The Romanian stopped, looked at him in surprise and laughed. He let go. Casually, he strolled up to his hostage. Enrico's right hand was still free. Lisa was standing alone -

Lisa's jaw visibly dropped when the door opened. There was the sound of a crutch being set on the floor. _Click. Click. _The Romanian waved his henchman away, but Enrico didn't notice. He had turned around to look at the visitor. He had read water boarding could cause hallucinations, especially in combination with little food and water. It was the only possible explanation.

_This can't be._

"Long time no see, Enrico, Lisa," Joseph Drake said. He had visibly aged, wrinkles cutting deep canyons in his gray face. His leg had obviously never really healed and was twisted under the fabric of his trousers. Putting it mildly, he didn't look healthy.

"You're still always protecting her. That's lovely." Drake nodded to the Romanian and suddenly a sharp pain shot through Enrico's left hand. He cried out, more out of surprise. _Damn it. That better doesn't leave a scar. _The pain subsided after a few seconds to make place for a dull throbbing. Drake didn't look too pleased. Enrico turned to see how bad it really was.

There was a knife sticking out of his hand. The blade had pierced it between the second and third bone – he didn't know the real name – and the tip was buried in the wood of the armrest. Blood trickled lazily over the back of his hand where the blade was coming out of the flesh.

Enrico stared at it, too dumbfounded to process what he saw. "Huh?"

_Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?_, he suddenly thought. Except it wasn't the handle pointed at his hand, it was the blade stuck _in _his hand. _Never saw that coming, Shakespeare, right? _He snickered, just couldn't help it.

"Even now you manage to piss me off," Drake said and limped over to a chair. He sat down with a heavy _thud. _The Romanian made a step forward. "Maybe we should just cut off the entire hand. Or a finger. See how long he laughs then."

Drake waved him away impatiently. "You're here to work, not to think." Scowling, the Romanian took a few steps back. Drake grinned at Enrico and Lisa. "You have no idea how wonderful this was. Seeing you suffer. The best days of my life, I dare say. How does it feel to drown? Painful, I bet? And you, Lisa, having to watch it over and over? Although I presume it would have been incomparably more horrible for your brother. He's always so passionate about protecting you. It's just hilarious. How can an Iscariot even care so much and still go on?"

"How are you still alive?", Lisa whispered.

Drake looked surprised. Then he barked an asthmatic laughter. "That's all? I crawled out of my wet grave, darling. You almost killed me, you crippled me and threw me down that drain. But I came out on the other side, waiting for revenge." He cackled. "I told you what I'd do with you. By now I'd say I'll be content with the beautiful lady only, though."

He turned to give his henchmen another order. Then everything went down very fast. Lisa spun, kicking the silent man's legs out under him. She grabbed the knife in his belt and a moment later he was dead.

"Never underestimate Iscariot," Enrico stated. Content his sister would handle this, he needed to think about freeing himself. He avoided to look at the dagger while he tried to undo the knot. But with only one hand that was as good as impossible. Cutting it would be easier. And he had to attend to the blade sooner or later anyway. There was still only a bit of blood and next to no pain, compared to his face and torso. He'd like to keep it that way. But there seemed no way around it. Enrico hesitated, looking at the dagger – it was an actual dagger, not a modern knife – like it was a poisonous snake. God, he hated pain so much.

"Get over it, princess!", Lisa yelled. She faked a punch and ducked under her opponents' fists. As much as she loved him, Enrico could be such a pussy. He went through all that without even complaining and now he hesitated.

Drake was trying to get to his feet. Lisa dodged and kicked the crutch away. "Oh, no, don't hurry to make yourself useful!" She needed backup, and soon. The Romanian wasn't some civilian, not even a hobbyist. She had to throw in all of her military-like training to even match him.

Enrico of course was sitting on his throne. He never fought himself, but was overprotective to a point it became ridiculous when it came to her. Lisa never understood how this paradox worked. She dodged another punch, recognizing the feint too late.

The Romanian wrestled her down. Drake was hovering there, leaned on his crutch, with a broad grin. "You're a pain in the ass, darling. You two brats caused me so much trouble-"

If there was one weakness of any villain, it was talking forever. Lisa kicked his bad leg. Drake shrieked like an army of demons and fell to the ground. "You bitch!"

Enrico stared at the dagger. He heard Drake shriek. The sound of Hell. A scream like that had haunted him for weeks after they thought they had killed Drake for the first time. _Others would laugh at me. Nobody has the right to do so!_

He grabbed the handle and pulled with all his strength. The blade shifted. When the tip came out of the wood, the angle changed and cut even more into his flesh. He screamed when the pain finally arrived. Hot blood was flowing over his hand. This was not his job. Politics were dirty, but somebody had to do it and he was good at it.

He got the dagger between his hand and the rope. The blade was very sharp. Good for him. A dull blade would have caused a lot more damage, he figured. But really, what did he know about fighting?

The torture of the last days wouldn't leave any marks. But this? _Me, an Iscariot, bearing the mark of Jesus himself. Oh, the irony. _He carefully moved the hand. It hurt like hell and he could see muscles and tendons move through the gash. But it seemed to be fully functional.

_I'm glad I'm not left-handed. _He wanted to get up, but of all times now his body refused, rather concentrating on the pain.

"RICO!" _Lisa! _He jumped to his feet, only to trip over the Romanian, the dagger in his still unhurt hand. The blade slid into flesh without any resistance. The Romanian gasped, eyes bulging in their sockets, trying to choke out a word or something. "Bastard." Blood splashed on the floor. A lot of blood. Enrico hadn't expected that _much_ blood. The room stank of it. Then the Romanian collapsed, almost ripping the dagger out of Enrico's hand. He staggered, but stayed on his feet. It was very quiet now, like in a crypt.

Lisa stood over Drake, holding him down with her foot on his crippled leg. Drake was breathing heavily, staring at her, but didn't move. Enrico stepped up to them. Lisa tried to take the dagger, but he refused to let her. "What?", she eventually snapped.

"Don't kill him yet."

Glaring, she let go. "Your hand."

"I'll survive it." He could feel hot blood flowing over his icy skin, accompanied by a sharp throbbing. That couldn't be good. "Never call me princess again."

He hunkered down. Lisa laid a hand on his shoulder. Otherwise he probably would have fallen to his knees. Drake tried to spit him in the face, but only hit himself. "You self-righteous brats think you're special. Millennium will rip you to pieces!"

Enrico nailed Drake's hand to the floor. The dagger pierced through the skin between thumb and index finger, hit a few tendons and sought its way between the bones. Drake shrieked like a whole clan of witches burning on the stake. It didn't make the pain any better, of course. Still felt good. Lisa's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"That was that," he said.

"I should have killed you!", Drake raged.

Lisa and Enrico looked at each other. "Yes, you should have," she eventually said spitefully. "But you couldn't. Two kids were able to defeat you. A loser like you should be long dead."

"How did you get out of there anyway? And why wait so long?", Enrico inquired.

"Crawled out of the drain like the rats you are! You brats smashed my leg, but I don't give up that easily! Not me, the greatest killer of all time, Joseph Drake!"

Enrico forced himself not to roll his eyes. Some people never learned. "Why now? And how?"

Drake was gasping by now. Even if they didn't kill him, he might just die of his generally ill health. But they wouldn't take chances anymore.

Drake began laughing, which turned into a coughing fit soon. "I was just waiting on a chance and then – then the great Major came to me and made an offer I couldn't refuse." He howled with laughter. Enrico felt Lisa's hand tightening. This was just freaky. Drake was out of his mind for good. "He promised he would let the Doctor fix my leg, you know! Of course he never planned it. But I didn't care." He giggled and began to sing: "All the promises we make from the cradle to the grave. When all I want is you..." He cackled again. "The Major promised me any help, as long as I could capture Enrico and Lisa Maxwell! And what a joy, I did! Seeing you bleed, hearing you scream, that was all I wanted!"

"What about Millennium?"

Drake just laughed harder. "What could I know of them? The Major is not an idiot! He'll rip you to pieces and feed them to the dogs! Your Iscariot can do nothing! You're going to be shredded, and that very soon." He flung wild glances around as if he was waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows. Lisa gently took the blade out of Enrico's hands and buried it in Drake's neck. He continued to spasm for a few seconds, then lay still.

"You think we can keep that?", Lisa asked, looking at the blade. It was quite old, yet well-preserved. Pretty, actually. Probably stolen, too. But throwing it away would be a sad waste. It wasn't really stealing, right? _I'm starting to think like them._

Enrico stood up, visibly shaking. It was easier counting the parts of his body that didn't hurt. God, he just wanted to go home. Though running around like that on the street would only raise suspicions. "You okay?", he asked automatically.

Lisa stopped staring at the blade and looked at him instead. "Sorry?" That got to be a joke._ Nope, just his way of thinking. _This was getting ridiculous. She uttered a somewhat helpless laugh. "If _I'm _okay?" She hugged him as hard as she dared. He was still wet and shaking. "They tortured you and you as _me _if I'm okay?"

"I'm your brother. That's my job."

"Well, then are _you_ okay?"

She received a little shrug and half a smile as a reply. "I'll survive it. Though I might not go swimming for a while."

Lisa took a step back. "Your hand. Wait a sec." Somewhere here she had seen a first aid kit when she first arrived with Jack and Pablo. They had wondered why something like that would be in an abandoned building. Not that it helped them a lot. _That Major! He'll pay for this!_

She eventually found the kit in a corner. It was almost brand-new. She found pretty much everything form bandages to hydrogen peroxide. She carried the first-aid-kit back to her brother still standing in the same spot and laid it on the chair. Lisa took the peroxide and took care not to show it too obviously. She took Enrico's wrist. This looked even worse than she thought. It wasn't bleeding much and she could see muscles and tendons working.

"Hold still. If you want to play hero again, try to keep your mouth shut."

"What are you – OW!" He drew back his hand, the liquid foaming and falling to the ground reddened. Some of it was actually falling _through _the gash. Lisa didn't want to imagine how much that hurt. She had always been lucky enough not to get bad injuries throughout her life.

"You trying to kill me, mate?", Enrico snapped, his voice shrill. Lisa had to smile despite herself. She rather would have expected Italian words from him. Meaning it was just pretend. _The world is full of paradoxes._

Lisa got the bandages and wrapped them as tight as she could. It was a tricky spot that didn't really want to work. Somehow it reminded her of an adventure movie. "Brother?" She laid a hand against his cheek. His skin was icy. She didn't like how pale he was. With his smart-ass attitude it was easy to forget he was no paladin. After something like that pretty much every average person would have a shock. "Rico? Don't pass out yet, okay? You're too heavy for me to carry."

"Huh?" His eyes flickered, then focused on her face. "Who's passed out?" That provoked a little smile. He looked at the improvised bandage. The pain had dulled to a faint throbbing again. "I wonder what the others think where we are. I mean, also the other sections. I've got officially a few days off."

"Hopefully Anderson and the others didn't make a fuss. Section Thirteen could do without its chief getting into a scandal, eh?"

"They just want to keep us busy."

The door was slammed open. "HANDS UP, EVERYONE!"

Enrico and Lisa just looked at the newcomer. Heinkel had barged in like she was expecting hordes of enemies. Now she stopped dead. Yumie bumped into her. They could have kept their balance, if not Anderson had followed up close, knocking both to the ground before he could stop. He stood in the doorway, bayonets drawn and ready for battle.

The three paladins stared at the expected damsels in distress. Heinkel and Yumie exchanged a glance. "Uh...", they said in unison.

"Does that go for us, too?", Lisa asked. "There's really no one else to do so, really. Those fellas definitely not." She motioned to the three corpses. "But we can, if you feel better then."

Slowly, the two paladin girls got up and stashed away their weapons. So did Anderson after looking around warily, seeing nothing remotely human but the Maxwell siblings, three dead heathens and two very confused paladins. Maxwell looked worse than his sister, which was not a big surprise. He seemed to have been beaten up a bit. The hand, though almost professionally bandaged, could be a bigger problem. And he had obviously been soaked in the past, fitting to the water basin at the far end of the room. Hell, they got into quite a mess there.

"Nice entrance," Enrico said. "Though a bit late."

"Bit difficult to all get days off," Heinkel scoffed, resting her hands on the butts of the twin Desert Eagles. It was her typical pose, even off duty. Lisa and Enrico exchanged a glance, unsure if that had been a joke.

"Ye twae got us intae ae wee bit o' trouble there," Anderson said as he stepped forward, towering over the siblings. Despite being an adult, Lisa couldn't help but shift an inch closer to her brother. It was a well-learned reflex, formed by years of partnership.

"Renaldo could call in a favor of an old friend in Section Eight before all this became public. He removed all videos they sent," Heinkel said.

"Videos?" Lisa looked around for something useful, trying to ignore the giant looming over her. Anderson would never hurt her, she knew that. Didn't make him less scary.

"Aye. They wanted tae blackmail first Iscariot and then the Vatican."

"That was merely to distract us from Millennium. They have spies everywhere," Lisa repeated Enrico's judgment from the previous night. Speaking of which, why didn't he say anything? Enrico was the director. He would have to stand up for all of this. The Pope would be_ so_ pissed.  
"Uhm... Chief?", Yumie asked.

Lisa turned around, just to see her brother lying unconscious in Anderson's arms.

_September 5th, 2016_

Six days. Six. Freaking. Days. And his hand still sang Hallelujah when he moved it too much. The wound was closing, but only very slowly. Not that Enrico had any time for recovering more than the last six days. As expected, he had spent five of these almost exclusively on the sofa, trying to distract himself from what felt like he was burning up. Most of the time he had slept, his cat Alex as a silent sentry. His doctor said he had been incredibly lucky. The blade had not severed any tendons, not hit the bone, just gone through. Hurt like hell, but he would not have any follow-up damage. Could cause scars, though.

His throat was still rough, the coughing wasn't gone yet, and he got a headache when he worked more than two hours straight, but he _was_ better. That was one of the worst colds he ever had. Quite similar, actually, to the one he got after their neighbors fished him out of that lake. At least Lisa had been alright. Though they both had been grounded for two weeks after he was well again. The similarities were so big it was ridiculous.

As expected, the Holy Father had been angry. "I had never expected you, Maxwell, of all people, to just abandon your work like that, even for only a few days. And not just you, even our best weapons. I'm disappointed." The latter information had probably been leaked by Section Eight, John. Their director, Bishop Reinhardt Cornelius, had _his _people everywhere, too. And he didn't like Enrico Maxwell. He had been one of the biggest objectors when the choice had not been made yet.

_Maxwell is too young. He cannot handle this._ Which, in truth, meant: _He's too independent._ Cornelius wanted a puppet he could easily control for his means.

Enrico had humbly bowed his head, ignoring his still hurting body. "It won't happen again, your Holiness." His voice, barely returned yet (he hadn't been able to say anything for three days, so this was actually an improvement) seemed to put the Holy Father into a more reasonable mood.

"We're in a difficult position, Maxwell. I put my full trust in your ability to defend our church. Do not disappoint me again."

"I- _We _will not fail, your Holiness." The Pope never found out what really happened in these roughly five days. Not even Cornelius knew. Renaldo had saved the day again.

Enrico had actually wanted – because now he really didn't feel well enough to do much – to wait longer. This whole Millennium business he could also handle from his warm and comfortable sofa.

That had been before Section Eight reported Hellsing mansion had been attacked. Their whole staff was killed, except for the Convention of 12 and Sir Hellsing herself.

Adding to that, the Holy Father expected a solution to the Badrick problem. And he had left no doubt how he imagined this solution to be.

Enrico had everything from the old files at hand. With the help of Lisa and Heinkel, he had leafed through everything that even had a splinter of information about Millennium. That had been before this dreaded episode in Romania. Before all of this started, actually. Unlike Hellsing, Iscariot was well-informed. No matter how secret something was, the Vatican kept their reports in perfect order.

It couldn't hurt sharing a bit of this information for settling the score. Especially if Hellsing dug their own grave with it. Now he sat at his desk, wearing jogging trousers out of sheer principle, the feet on the more or less cleaned up surface, a cup of steaming hot chocolate on the desk. No more typing for him today. Despite being curious what the attack looked like, his hand made it clear that would not happen today.

Instead, he had a writing pad on his lap and a pencil. In these modern times a letter seemed a bit old-fashioned, but everything else would be inappropriate. Besides, it was the only way he could still write that letter today. Painkillers always made him dizzy and so his hand felt like it was filled with lava after working on a few _minor_ details in his subordinates' reports. Business as usual.

So, he had to settle with a pencil for the draft and an old-fashioned pen for the final version. On the desk already lay an envelope, addressed to Hellsing and his name on the sender. For a secret organization, Iscariot was working in plain sight a lot, Enrico mused. But that was what made it a secret organization, he supposed. Hiding in plain sight was always best.

It was one of the most difficult letters he ever wrote. He didn't know Caitlyn Hellsing at all – not counting the rumours; he didn't take them into consideration - and that made it difficult determining how to play her. He had found literally nothing on her, not even a photo. Politics were a bit like a puzzle. The less you knew, the more tricky it became. Besides, about women only other women knew. That seemed to be a law of nature. But when he asked, Lisa had just laughed and told him he should be able to handle this. Everybody else he didn't want to ask.

In the end – after brooding over it for almost an hour - he had settled for something casual:

_Dear Sir Hellsing,_

_how would you like to enjoy the Imperial War Museum together this fine autumn?_

_We shall meet on September 10th on 3 pm. in the following location:_

He had decided on a painting depicting a battle somewhere in Africa. The corridor was broad and they should be close to the crowds, but alone to talk. The last thing Iscariot could afford was yet another fight on enemy territory. Despite that, Enrico was determined to bring Anderson to London. Just to be sure. Who could know if that heathen didn't decide just erasing him with the help of her vampires would be a good idea? He wondered what the Hellsing woman's reaction would be upon reading his letter. Iscariot couldn't have much of a good reputation in their godless country.

He read through the draft again. This shouldn't pose a problem. Even if the heathen would react with hostility and suspicions – that was pretty much what he expected – he would have done nothing to provoke a fight. In this situation, that meant having an advantage.

Hopefully, the bruises on his face would have disappeared until their meeting. The laceration on his right cheekbone just didn't seem to heal and it looked gruesome.

He frowned. His hand still hurt, although the feeling had disappeared into the background, and the bandage was clean. Besides, he was fortunately right-handed. But somehow a tiny drop of blood had found its way on the paper anyway. He needed to watch out in the final version of the letter.

Enrico exchanged the sheet from the writing pad with a stationery. He didn't feel the need to threaten Hellsing by using paper with the crest of the Vatican. Sentence after sentence, he copied his draft, now looking a lot more official. He tried to write more or less readable (it was always readable, at least for him, but Lisa – she of all people – said his handwriting was an ornate catastrophe). Writing letters was such an outdated thing to do.

After about half an hour he was done. Also, no blood anywhere on his hand. Weird.

He added the last line of the letter, and the biggest lie he had told in a long time:

_I look forward to meet you._

_Sincerely,_

_Bishop Enrico Maxwell_

_Director of Section Thirteen, Iscariot Organization_


	9. Never been any reason

Thanks to catsvsdogscatswin for the support. So... I suppose since we've been talking nicely for a while and you were the first to review... That chapter is for you.

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**Chapter 8: Never been any reason**

_Hellsing mansion, 5th September, 2016_

Caitlyn sat on the windowsill, legs drawn to her chest, and stared into the dreary day. Beside her lay the copy of _Shakespeare's complete works _she had gotten when she left the orphanage for good. She had been the only one to ever read it anyway. Not that she gave anyone else a chance to. When she didn't walk around, observing the world around her, she read hardly any other book. Caitlyn had been a curious child. In retrospect, she knew she had been a pain in the ass because of that. The Josephs and Josies were busy enough with the troubling kids. But she didn't realize that back then. No kid ever did. So when one of the Josephs had given it to her, she read it over and over, until she was able to quote whole passages. It was calming. Some thoughts could only be voiced in poetry.

Dark clouds hung on the sky, concealing the sun. It would probably rain. She would have laughed, seeing this stereotype fulfilled again, if she hadn't been that depressed.

On the road leading past the mansion, a snake of black sedans slowly slithered along. Every one of them was filled with a coffin. Every coffin contained the remains of a human. A human with a family, and friends, and memories, and dreams. Emotions, some never spoken aloud.

_If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. _

She had shed a lot of tears in the course of the last day. They failed to ease her sorrow. Most of the time she had wanted to be alone. But when she had tried to work and broke down in tears again, Mira was there. Maybe it was weird to be comforted by a vampire, but only on a theoretical level. Caitlyn found it strangely calming to listen to Mira's tales of war, of fallen warriors and defeated armies, but also of loyalty and love. The princess of Walachia had been a commander herself. Some part of Caitlyn thought she had to know how this was.

The rest reminded her that Mira was a monster if there ever was one, of course.

_And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse._

Sacrifices had to be made, she knew that. Every movie said so. But the reality was very different. And she hadn't even known most of them really well. Had not even known their names.

She had failed her men, pure and simple.

Caitlyn looked at the open book without seeing. Act 2, Scene 2 of _King John. _

No one had ever attacked Hellsing mansion. She had never really considered it, given the fact that she had two powerful vampires and a well-trained guard. Why would anyone want to? Hellsing was completely unofficial, known to only a few selected groups.

Somehow, Caitlyn still thought of herself as an ordinary British orphan of no special interest to anyone. She was never worried about her personal safety – Mira and Walter were at her side after all. How foolish had she been! This was not just about her. She had subordinates she needed to take care of. They had relied on her and she had failed. Caitlyn wiped her face.

"You shouldn't do that. It ruins your make-up." She almost fell from the windowsill. Sneaking up on her seemed to be the vampires' favourite exercise. She gave Mira an ironic smile. Or tried to. All she managed was a shaky skinning away of her lips from her teeth.

Mira sat on Caitlyn's chair, wearing a black dress to her ankles, the wild black hair more or less tamed in a braid. Walter stepped from the shadows beside her. He too had chosen an adult appearance, looking about twenty. The dark hair was in a knot, the front strands falling over his temples to the jaw. He looked too damn handsome.

__Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service. __

Mira tilted her head and Caitlyn realized she must have heard this. She hastily stood up, smoothing her skirt and put the book back in its place. Why did the bloody vampire have to read her thoughts anyway?! Had she never heard anything about privacy?

Sighing, Caitlyn got up. Her duties awaited her. It was the only thing she could do to make up for what she did.

Walter and Mira walked her to the military cemetery next to the grounds of Hellsing mansion. It would be weird to live next to it if the actual premises weren't so huge. She could have taken the car as well, but Caitlyn insisted on walking. She needed to calm down, before she broke into tears in front of everyone. She counted her steps while the vampires walked silently beside her. Five-hundred and seven, eight...

_All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances._

When they reached the cemetery, Caitlyn had made exactly one thousand and one hundred twenty-seven paces. That was the shortest way from the main entrance to the entrance of the cemetery.

Caitlyn was glad Walter and Mira were with her. She was not sure if she would have been able to go through this alone. Not when she was responsible for it in the first place.

The vampires received a lot of suspicious glances. Not only, though. Caitlyn could bet at least three of the attendants fell in love with the countess at first sight. The thought was actually funny, despite all that.

In turn nobody paid much attention to Caitlyn. She had expected reproaches and disapproval. In some way she even wanted it, knowing she deserved it. But nobody talked to her.

At least nobody required her to say anything either.

Caitlyn forced herself not to count the graves the coffins were lowered in one after another. A lot of graves.

_Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms._

She would repay whoever was responsible for this a thousandfold.

Somehow, she sat through the whole long procedure. The fallen were put to their last resting places. The attendants stood up and saluted. Even Mira joined in.

Caitlyn stepped forward. Revenge should have no bounds.

Her voice was clear and devoid of tears. "To our fellow knights who fell in the service of queen, country and the Protestant church. We salute you!" Wind rushed under her dress and lifted the veil in front of her eyes. "Heroes are never forgotten."

_Two hours later_

Caitlyn had changed into more comfortable clothes. She sat at her desk, staring at the report Walter had prepared. She needed to read it, but had not even opened the folder. She just looked at it like it would bite her the moment she touched it. Her confidence from the end of the funeral had vanished into thin air like Prospero's spirits in The Tempest.

She didn't look up when she saw a movement in front of her desk. "What defines a good leader?", she asked. There was no response. "A leader has a vision. He knows what to do in times of crisis. A leader can lead, you know."

"Well, duh." Walter had sat on one of the free chairs and crossed his legs. "Lady Caitlyn, this doesn't bring you anywhere."

She ignored him. "This is my fault. I've been the head of Hellsing for five years and once the first real crisis arrives, I'm helpless." Walter rolled his eyes. Patience with self-bemoaning was not one of his strong sides. "So?"

Caitlyn rolled a pen on the table. "What was Integra like?"

There was a pause. "Honestly? Bitchy."

"Are you saying this to make me feel better?"

"Well, what do you want to hear? That she would have been a better leader? She was fourteen."

Caitlyn shrugged her shoulders. Walter emitted a low growl, mixed with a sigh. "Let's put it like this: She had a strong will. Failure was intolerable, and emotions had no place in business. She was a lot more ruthless than you. And angry," he added after a moment. "As I said, she could be pretty bitchy."

"But you would have served her just like you serve me."

"That's my job. I mean, she grew up with me as her butler. Yes, I would have. And?"

Caitlyn drew little circles on an empty sheet. "Nothing. Were you sad when she died?"

Now there was a longer pause. "What kind of question is that?", he asked. "I'm a vampire. I have the privilege not having to mourn anyone." Caitlyn suppressed a bitter smile. Of course. She was just a silly human to them, more dependent on them than they were on her.

"Did she kill her uncle?"

Another pause. "No. I killed him."

Caitlyn looked up. Walter seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden. Again, when had she ever seen him uncomfortable? He didn't like talking about the past, the complete opposite to Mira like she was now. They both behaved weird since all this started. "Really? Why?"

"He attacked her. By Sir Arthur's orders, Integra was the righteous head of Hellsing. My duty is to protect the family, no matter who the enemy is. I didn't like him anyway," he added after a moment. Caitlyn could have said she saw through his try to seem especially tough. Being trapped in the body of a child had to lead to some inferiority complex, she guessed. But she didn't need to say anything. He saw it in her face.

"What about Integra's mother? There were no pictures, no info about her, nothing. What happened to her?"

The glare Walter shot her made her wince. She was a really lucky girl having him one her side. Seeing that reminded her these new vampires were probably the better pick to have as enemies. They couldn't be worse than seeing her vampires angry.

"She died," Walter said sharply. His red eyes were glowing slightly.

Caitlyn cleared her throat to ease her discomfort. Bloody hell, she was the goddamn leader in here, so she should behave like one! ...Some leader she was, letting her men get eaten. She clenched her teeth.

"When? How?"

"Shortly after Integra's birth. Was probably too much for her." He made no effort to conceal he didn't want to talk about this.

"You didn't like her, did you?" Walter folded his slender legs over the armrest of the chair, trying to look indifferent.

"Not really." Caitlyn had an unsettling thought she immediately dismissed. Walter's loyalty was not in question.

"Of course not," she said. Was it such a surprise, after that woman caused Mira to get locked up?

"How shall we go on, master?", Walter asked, changing the topic. His tone was back to normal.

Caitlyn shook her head. She didn't know. All she could think about was how much she had failed.

"_The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool._" They both turned. Mira was still wearing the same breathtaking dress, but her hair was open now. ...Were those ribbons? Yes and no. Actually more of thick threads, one on each side. Caitlyn had long given up on trying to understand her. By now she had the feeling, Mira did that just to confuse her. The vampire sat on the second chair and smiled. "You're not the only one who knows Shakespeare."

"So?", Caitlyn asked miserably.

Mira shrugged. "_To be or not to be, that is the question._" Caitlyn had to smile despite herself. She broke out laughing when Mira said: "I read that just to understand what you are saying sometimes."

Caitlyn wiped her eyes. Screw the make-up. "So the warrior countess tells me I should go on?"

"I can only guess what you think. Human emotions are foreign to a monster like me. But when we are already at it, how about: _What 's gone and what 's past help should be past grief._ "

Caitlyn didn't have to look up the source. "The Winter's tale. You really read all of it," she said, somewhat astonished. "Alright. Walter, what are the next steps?"

"Next would be the rebuilding of headquarters. Of our ninety-five staff members, nine remain alive. Eight of them were away from base that day."

"Meaning?"

"The only one who actually survived the attack was you."

Caitlyn blinked. "And you two?"

"We're already dead, you know?", Mira said.

"Oh. Right." She should have remembered that. "What about Emily?"

"She's in hospital. The battle cost both of her lower legs and she lost a lot of blood. The doctors are still unsure what was done to her, but she will be released into the care of her parents at the end of the next week."

Caitlyn stared at the closed folder. "I see. Do we have any idea who might have done this? Those were no normal ghouls and no normal vampires. We knew that from the first attacks. Did Emily say anything useful?"

There was a long silence. What the hell was going on all of a sudden? "I asked her," Mira eventually said. "She said Millennium sent her."

"Well then why don't we look into that?" Caitlyn shrugged. "You know what, I'll do it myself. These are the times of the Internet, right?"

Mira and Walter exchanged a glance. Caitlyn, having done nothing yet, leaned back.

"_Have more than thou showest, speak less than thou knowest, lend less than thou owest._ You two obviously know a lot more about that."

"I wouldn't call it a lot," Walter said. "We eradicated them. Or at least we thought we had."

Caitlyn knew immediately what he meant. Why hadn't she seen this before? "The Poland mission?"

Mira nodded. "Exactly. Millennium was a project started by Nazi Germany to produce vampire soldiers. We chased them from one part of Europe to another. The allied forces were close to getting them in France, but they escaped during the liberation of Paris in 1944. After that the experiments were relocated to Warsaw, where we completely destroyed them in September 1944."

Walter growled. "The leaders were able to flee, though. The Major, who was the head of Millennium, his top scientist and his watchdog. That werewolf arsehole."

Caitlyn noted down Major, scientist, werewolf. "So these three? They were the only ones?"

"I didn't count the normal soldiers," Mira said. "I met two women, one with a musket, another one with a scythe. The one with the scythe gave me her cigarettes when I asked."

Caitlyn could vividly imagine that. Mira in battle was the most terrifying thing she could imagine. Only an idiot would try to say no. Nazi or not, she somehow pitied the woman. Well, she was probably dead now or at least in her 90s. "I didn't know the Wehrmacht had female soldiers."

"That's probably why I remember them. They were both around twenty. Could very well be that they survived. And there was a young boy jumping around the place. He had cat ears."

Caitlyn slowly raised one eyebrow. Oh no. Not again. And she had been stupid enough to fall for it. "I believed you until you started with the cat ears."

Mira shrugged her shoulders. "I'm trying to be accurate here. And by jumping I mean he just turned up somewhere."

"You mean he could teleport?"

"If that's what you call it, yes."

Caitlyn pressed her fingertips together. "Alright, fine. Let's assume these Millennium people are really responsible for all of this. Why now? It's been seventy years since the Second World War, Europe has other problems than Nazi vampires." She stopped. Now she had said it after all. Caitlyn burst out laughing. She just couldn't help it. Her men had been eaten, she was next to getting hysterical and they had the nerve to pull such a story. It took a little eternity to pull herself together, until she lay over her desk, her stomach hurting and gasping for air. The vampires didn't make a sound. After a while, Caitlyn straightened up and wiped her watering eyes, still grinning. She looked at Mira, who had suddenly decided to take the shape of a woman in a red duster coat with a fedora. That was the same form she had had in Badrick. What the hell. Caitlyn didn't bother to ask. Mira had begun to behave weird the moment she met this Anderson. Even weirder than usual.

She waited for one of them to crack up. They didn't. Both of them were wearing an expression of genuine confusion. "I didn't know we were being so funny," Mira said.

That sobered Caitlyn quickly. She wiped away tears and her already smeared make-up. "Wait. You're serious about that?", she asked.

"Of course. I would never lie," Mira said.

Caitlyn propped her chin on her hand. "You actually want to tell me we are dealing with Nazi vampires?" They both nodded, at least Walter clearly offended. Caitlyn shook her head. That got to be a weird joke. She would never understand those two. "Nazi vampires," she repeated. "Do you know how that sounds? It sounds ridiculous. ...Can you hear that?"

Walter frowned. "Hear what?"

"The Convention and everybody else laughing at us. We're not in some stupid Hollywood movie. If I deliver this report I'm finished."

"It is like it is," Mira said. "Aside from that, Irons and Penwood were involved in the operation to destroy Millennium, although I don't know how much they really knew about it in the end."

Caitlyn stood up. "Those goddamned-" She concluded with an angry sound between a growl and an "Ugh!". "They never thought of telling me, of course," she hissed. "Bastards!"

"We don't know how far they have been informed," Walter reminded her. Caitlyn shrugged. Of course. Unprovable reproaches would only get her into trouble.

"Any more details on this Millennium? What did they do before? When did they start? Members?"

Walter shrugged his shoulders. "We're just the weapons. Sorry."

Caitlyn sat down again and rubbed her face. This was more terrifying than she wanted to admit. No ordinary army would have a chance against monsters like that. It didn't need to be a vampire of Mira's or Walter's calibre. Even an army of "weak" vampires would be enough to kill dozens of humans. "Let's get to what is not beyond help. Rebuilding of headquarters. We need new staff, right?" It pained her to say that. As if the men had only been broken toys that needed to be replaced.

"I already saw to that," Walter said. "We couldn't transfer military personnel. That would be too obvious, considering the large number. So I took the liberty to hire professional mercenaries."

"Mercenaries, is that so," Caitlyn said, her mind already absent. The idea didn't seem half bad. If anyone could do the job then it was mercenaries. They were better fitting than patriotic soldiers. They would definitely not question her and maybe even report back to the Convention of 12 without her knowledge. "Are they suited for this?"

"They are professionals. As long as we pay them, the Wild Geese won't betray us."

Caitlyn restlessly tapped her desk. "That was not my question. I wanted to know if they are skilled enough to deal with this. I don't want any more of my subordinates to die."

Walter blinked at her. "Oh. Yes, I think so. They've got quite a reputation."

"_Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and lost without deserving._" Caitlyn stood up. "Let's have a look at them. You stay here, just... do what you always do."

Mira wanted to say something, but Caitlyn waved her off. At the door, she turned. "And don't think I didn't see the moustache on the painting. Tell whoever it was he or she needs to work on her artistic skills."

The Wild Geese were an unusual group, to say the least. Caitlyn watched them without stepping into the room for a while. They had settled in one of the many huge rooms she never needed. About forty men of different ages and ethnicity, but all battle-hardened. It was obvious in the way they had grouped themselves, even though no one seemed openly concerned. A lot had scars. Caitlyn heard at least ten different accents. They had brought crates of weapons or whatever was in it and sat on them. They chatted among themselves, some even had steaming pots of tea.

The young girl in the middle stood out like a sheep among wolves. She wore the same camouflage uniforms as they did, with the exception of a skirt instead of trousers. That could not be practical, Caitlyn thought. The girl had neck-long blond hair. She sat on a crate and looked around curiously, only half listening to the talk around her. Caitlyn noticed the ring on her left hand. She seemed too innocent to hurt a fly. If she was a mercenary, she either hadn't been one for long or she was a master actress.

"What's this then, Captain Bernadotte?", one of the men asked. He wore a moustache and a cap with something like snowboarding glasses on it. Caitlyn was determined to learn every name and to appreciate every of her new subordinates as an individual. But maybe not now.

The Captain sat in the middle, on a chair with the backrest turned to the front. He had his left eye hidden under an eyepatch and a bandage over the bridge of his nose. The long brown hair was braided and put around his neck. He wore an Australian slouch hat. Caitlyn was amused about the words "Britanica Cowboys" on the uniforms. Pip Bernadotte was his name, the file Walter had given her said. That didn't really sound Australian, even though he looked like one.

Caitlyn leafed through the pages until she found the sheet about the girl. Seras Victoria, twenty years old, British. Bernadotte's fiancee. The second commander was called Adrian Stanek.

"What's what?", Bernadotte said. Definitely not Australian. French.

"About us having to be guards and all. Are we some rich bloke's personal army?"

Bernadotte laughed. "No, but don't be spooked..." He suddenly grabbed his fiancee's leg. She squealed and slapped his hand away. The men broke out laughing, while Victoria was fuming.

"Stop being childish, Pip!"

He implied a little bow and threw her a kiss. "Of course, ma chére. But listen: We" he made a dramatic little pause, "will hunt monsters!" Silence. Then the men laughed even harder. "But don't worry, ma chére, I'll protect you." He laid a hand on his fiancee's leg. She smiled, despite trying to sulk.

"Come on, Captain!", somebody laughed. Caitlyn had to smile. They seemed nice enough. Hopefully they were also skilled enough. She put the file on a sideboard and went in. The men turned and looked her up and down. The majority was a lot older than her. Caitlyn was not exactly a authoritative figure and she knew that.

"Welcome to Hellsing," she said. "I'm Caitlyn Hellsing, head of the organization."

The majority of the men frowned. "Ain't you a bit young for that?", somebody asked. He had two scars on his face, one horizontally on the level of the nose, the other crossing it vertically through the eye. Ain't. An American, just like the unfortunate mercenary with the nice voice.

Caitlyn only shrugged her shoulders. "Hunting vampires is not a very appreciated business."

Glances were exchanged. Then the Wild Geese roared with laughter again. "Vampires? Really? Sorry, Miss, but-"

"Nazi vampires, actually, it seems." That only caused more laughter. Caitlyn let them. She probably shouldn't have said that. If only it was so easy. "I know it sounds weird and all. But it's true. Vampires exist. Read Bram Stoker for details."

"You must be barmy," Bernadotte grinned. He received a kick from Seras for that and rubbed his leg. "Come on, my chére, you don't believe that, do you?"

"Sir Caitlyn?" She turned when Walter stepped soundlessly into the room. He was discreet enough to use the door. The Wild Geese stared at him. Caitlyn gave them a - hopefully - content smile.

"If you want to see a true vampire, here you have one."

Silence. Caitlyn could see Walter trying to look as intimidating as he could without changing his form. Sometimes she pitied him. Although she would never say so, of course. No need to stretch his patience, no matter how much she hoped he saw her the same way she saw him. Family.

The men roared with laughter. "What, that kid?"

Caitlyn felt all blood leave her face. _Oh God._

"Walter, wait, don't-" Too late. Walter had already wrapped the delinquent in his wires and dragged out of the group. His red eyes glowed in rage and Caitlyn could see shadows swirling around him. Shocked silence had fallen. At least the man was still alive, still in one piece and not injured. Yet. Mira probably wouldn't have been that controlled. But on the other hand she was not so irascible either. Walter smiled unpleasantly, flashing sharp fangs. "You don't look all too tasty, but the saying goes that you shouldn't judge by the first glance, right? Maybe I should try anyway?"

"Walter!", Caitlyn commanded desperately. 'If they ever decide to ignore my orders, I'm finished'? Ever came earlier than expected.

"There's no need to get rude." The men spun and not few screamed. Caitlyn noticed that of all people, Bernadotte and Victoria seemed the least scared, just startled. Mira still wore the red coat. She simply stepped out of the wall and looked the Wild Geese up and down.

"Not really brave, are they? I've seen recruits faring better than that on the battlefields of Walachia. Will they be of any use to us at all?"

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. Sometimes you could just exchange the word vampire with arrogant, she thought. "Didn't I tell you to stay in my office?"

Walter dropped the trembling man who hastily scrambled back to his comrades. Mira placed herself on a chair and crossed her legs. "They will guard my bed. I want to know what we are working with. Besides, you just said seeing any more of your men die would make you very unhappy."

The men stared at her. _She's doing that on purpose._ "Well, if you're already here and still nostalgic, you can tell them how to defeat a vampire."

Mira smiled, completely ignoring Caitlyn's sour tone. "Traditionally? I think you all saw enough movies. But really, guns and blessed ammunition are a lot more useful than wooden stakes, garlic and the likes. Beheading has proven itself, too. Destroy the head or the heart. In the end it doesn't count how elegant you are."

"So that would work on you?", Seras Victoria said.

Mira laughed. "Technically, yes."

"What do you mean by technically?", the girl enquired. She looked fascinated. Caitlyn was impressed. For someone who had just met a vampire she fared well. But of course she had not seen Mira in action yet.

Before Mira could start bragging, Caitlyn interrupted. "A vampire is naturally immune against any disease or ageing. That should be clear. But what is normally not known, he – or she - can absorb the souls of those he drinks blood from. Basically the more they have, the more unkillable they are. But those types are rare and not your job."

Silence. Ah, hell. "Fine." She shrugged. "I already introduced myself. Those are Walter, my butler, and Mira."

"So you two are those rare types?", Seras asked. She looked at Mira. "Nice accent, by the way. Sergej here is Rumanian, too." She pointed at one of the men. He flinched. The vampires' little performance had done more damage than good, it seemed. Mira didn't change her smile.

"So you don't like garlic?", somebody asked carefully. The question was ignored. Although Caitlyn knew they actually did hate garlic – something she couldn't understand at all.

"Why does nobody know about that?", Bernadotte asked.

"Would you tell a population about it?", Caitlyn returned the question.

He hesitated. "Suppose not. And you people deal with that?"

"Hellsing organization was founded about a hundred years ago by Abraham van Hellsing." She answered before he could even ask. "Yes, that Abraham van Hellsing."

"So Dracula actually exists? With organ and wives and all?", the man with the cross-scar asked and laughed uncomfortably. Mira frowned. Damage prevention, Caitlyn thought. That's all this job is about. God, why could nothing ever go as she wanted?

"Yes," she said pointedly. "Dracula exists. Any detail questions you might want to direct to her personally." She made a gesture to Mira. Now it would be nice if the vampire could switch to something more fitting when she was already changing her form constantly. But of course Mira didn't think of that. She just sat there, legs crossed, the men staring at her.

"Lady Caitlyn?" She turned to Walter. Hopefully, the Wild Geese didn't ask any stupid questions. Thank God Mira was patient today. More Caitlyn couldn't do for now.

"There was a letter in the mail today. You might want to read it as soon as possible." Walter handed her an envelope. Good paper. The writing was curly. The writer had forced himself to make it readable and pushed down the pen harder than necessary. Who wrote letters per hand these days? All those little things she noticed before realizing who the sender was.

The Iscariot organization?

"Something wrong, master?", Mira asked, ignoring the nervous Wild Geese. Caitlyn slowly shook her head. She opened the envelope right there, not paying attention to anyone around her. Her thoughts were back in Badrick. Alexander Anderson's bayonets burying into the wall right next to her, his giant figure towering over her, the booming voice and triumphant laugh. Mira's last-minute appearance to save her. And weird enough, the only things she had noticed through the veil of her panic were the scar on his cheek. Mira's confusion when she first saw him. As if they knew each other. And the fact the paladin smelled like fresh raspberries. It was not the first time Caitlyn realized her brain worked in a really weird way.

"Who uses letters these days?", she murmured, already walking back to her office while reading. There was a tiny bloodstain on the paper, almost too small to see. She didn't want to speculate what that meant just yet. The sender was a certain Bishop Enrico Maxwell, the leader of Iscariot. The anti-terrorist unit, to use a nice description. The dirtiest of the dirty, in Penwood's words.

The tone of the letter was casual, but that could as well be just for show. He invited her to the Imperial War Museum. Choosing more or less neutral ground. Caitlyn could agree with that. A fight in public was not to desire for both parties. This Maxwell was not stupid for sure. His words were well-chosen, nothing pointing to a possible aggression.

That would prove to be interesting.

Caitlyn booted her laptop and entered the name into the search engine. The British empire probably had tons of info about these Iscariot people, but she didn't want to ask. Not with Irons and Walsh breathing down her neck. Sometimes, the best things were in plain sight anyway.

Not this time, though. There were unnervingly few results. Iscariot was more or less as secret as Hellsing, so its members were rather closed off from the public. But even considering that there was literally next to nothing related with a Bishop Enrico Maxwell. She found a Archbishop Giacomo Maxwell, most active in World War II, who had died in 1956; and a cardinal named Pietro Maxwell, died in 2007. She even found out Giacomo was Pietro's uncle. But about an Enrico there was nothing.

After half an hour she could finally dig up something after all. It was a newspaper article. Caitlyn read the article twice, wondering if that really was the person she was looking for. Because it would mean he was not yet thirty.

The article was concerned with the rather surprising consecration of a young priest to bishop. The Pope had decided over it without an involvement of the usual selective channels. Enrico Maxwell had been twenty-four then, the youngest bishop to be appointed in centuries. No reasons given. Caitlyn entered the year and looked for obituaries. Her guess turned out to be correct. The same year, not even three weeks prior to the consecration, a bishop named Jonathan Kerr had died at the age of 75. Caitlyn didn't need any proof to know Kerr had been the former leader of this ominous Section Thirteen. Maxwell had jumped the ranks expertly, it seemed. She shouldn't make the mistake of underestimating him.

The article featured a photograph of the newly appointed bishop. He was very young, as expected. What Caitlyn hadn't expected, however, was how handsome he was. Fitting to the name he seemed to be Italian, having tanned skin. In turn, the eyes were emerald green. They were extraordinarily bright, intelligent, and also a bit dreamy. He had long blond hair. And by that she meant really long, all the way down to the waist, as far as she could see it on the photo. It was pulled back in a ponytail. It looked nice. Nice and soft. He wore a winning smile that reminded her a bit of a fox for some reason. Broad shoulders, tall. Good-looking _and_ clever.

Caitlyn angrily shook her head. What was wrong with her? She was not some lovesick teenager! Bugger. She was not thinking clearly anymore. Caitlyn dropped her head on the keyboard. That probably hadn't been good for the keys. Or for her forehead. "Ouch," she grumbled.

"Are you alright, master?"

She raised her head again and glared at Mira. "Are you following me everywhere today?"

"The new guards are unpacking and I grew bored."

"Did they find the courage to ask you about being Dracula?"

Mira changed her form to that of a countess in a long dress again. "The girl did."

"You think we can work with them?"

Mira sat down and smoothed her skirt, which was completely superfluous. Now she took that form, of course. "They're not beyond hope," she said eventually.

"Better than the recruits on the battlefields of Walachia?", Caitlyn asked. Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Mira smiled. "They weren't beheaded yet."

Caitlyn shrugged and turned off the laptop. "Fine. I guess I'll check on them later. Oh, Mira, just so you know, you won't accompany me to the Museum. We can't afford a fight."

Her phone started ringing. It was the title melody of BBC's Sherlock. Caitlyn checked the screen. "Oh God, not again." Up till now she had gladly repressed the memory of this unpleasant duty.

"Your fencing lessons?"

"Yeah," Caitlyn grumbled. "I don't know why these old farts are insisting on that."

"Because they think it is proper for a Lady. To be honest, I don't see the point."

"At least we're two, then," Caitlyn said, deactivating the alarm. "This is so stupid."

"I agree. The techniques you learn are unsuited for defending yourself. I didn't know how bad it was until we met Anderson in Badrick." From somewhere she had gotten a sword with a black and golden hilt. She examined the shining blade, then stood up. "Like this you won't survive long without me. I will show you how proper fighting works." Caitlyn was too flustered to object when the vampire shoved her to the door. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped.

_Oh God. No, no, no. Don't tell me-_ She saw her face flush under the black spots.

"Hurry up, master, we have a lot to do."

Caitlyn had different things in mind now. Like what the Wild Geese had to think now. "Why didn't you tell me the mascara is all over my face?"


	10. Running with the devil

Phew. Finally a new chapter.

Again for catsvsdogscatswin for her constant support :3

* * *

**Chapter 9: Running with the devil**

__Rome, Iscariot training facility, April 10__th__, 2015__

Enrico lost his balance and painfully crashed to the floor. His head was spinning and immediately wood pressed against his throat.

"I don't have to tell you you would be dead in a real battle, right? ...Sir?"

"Save it," Enrico snapped and got up, only to almost trip over his own feet. The fall had made him dizzy, not to mention the countless bruises he already had. And now his hand hurt like hell, too, after falling on it. Renaldo patiently waited until he had gathered himself and then raised the wooden sword again. Enrico pushed his sleeves up and did the same, although reluctant. He had presumed himself to be more or less fit, but after two hours he was drenched in sweat and trembling with exhaustion. And Renaldo did not seem to be willing to let him off yet.

"You're dropping your guard again." Enrico forced himself to concentrate. Why did he have to do this again?

Ah, right, he had been sick of being protected by the girls. Even his cute little sister. It was supposed to be the other way around. Some part of him knew he would never match the paladin's superior abilities, but that was no excuse. He had not expected it to be that hard, though.

Only a reflex let him block the next blow. He stumbled, almost losing his balance while trying to attack himself. _Merde!_ He was no paladin and lacked the talent. This was not fair.

Renaldo tripped him, the sword hitting his wrist. Enrico cried out and fell. Again. When the world had stopped spinning he was able to sit up, rubbing his aching hand. The sword had clattered to the floor. "What is this good for anyway? How am I supposed to learn anything if you don't give me a chance?", he complained.

Renaldo extended a hand to help him up. Enrico ignored it. He was not that weak. He got to his feet, picking up the sword. "Are we finished for today?"

The old paladin sighed. "I suppose."

"About time." Enrico dropped the sword on the table at the wall and rolled down the sleeves of his shirt. Probably not the best clothes for fighting. What fighting? Most of the time he had tried not to get hurt too much. By now he regretted this silly idea. Even if he could master this somehow, Lisa would be a lot more skilled anyway.

That didn't change his promise, though.

He pushed the loose strands out of his face. The ponytail didn't really hold, but now it didn't matter anyway. He needed a hot shower. Maybe he wouldn't hurt all over then tomorrow.

"You should think about what you want," Renaldo said. He didn't betray any emotion, but Enrico wouldn't have been surprised if he had been laughing inside. After all, his desperate attempts at so-called fencing had to look completely ridiculous. Renaldo was only too polite and loyal to show it. Enrico shot him a cool glance. What did he know? If it was like Enrico wanted, he wouldn't be here at all. This was only an unpleasant duty and nobody had any right to mock him.

"Every leader of Iscariot has fought a battle at some point," Renaldo said.

"Well then we don't have to wait much longer. With Millennium surfacing there will be a battle soon. What's your point?"

The old priest looked at him with these unnaturally calm eyes. Was that pity? "Not all of them survived."

Enrico abruptly turned, strutting out of the room with his head held high, not bothering to answer. What did Renaldo think him to be?

No one would ever look down on him.

* * *

_July 13th, 2016, underground interrogation chamber, location classified_

"Have a seat, your grace." Maxwell smiled. Bishop Joseph Brown tried to return it, and failed miserably. He was shaking like in a fever. His nerves had never been particularly good, especially now, in this age. He was brought in by a paladin with neck-long blond hair falling in his face. The paladin melted into the shadows once they were in the room. The only light source was directed at the table Maxwell sat at. One side was stacked with papers, the other completely empty.

Brown slowly walked around the table to Iscariot's infamous young leader. Maxwell was a good deal taller. There were more people in the room, other paladins, Brown assumed. They were concealed by the shadows. Sometimes, a cross blinked.

Maxwell was friendly. They shook hands and sat down. Maxwell picked up a pen and crossed something on a sheet out. "I hope the travel was not too uncomfortable. You understand why this meeting place is required, right?" Brown nodded.

A bit too friendly, maybe. Being interrogated by the Iscariots could never mean anything good. The last time Brown had anything to do with them directly had been in World War II and after that he had been happy to keep his distance. In Section X he was just at the right place. Files and information. Not the smallest chance of active danger. Funny, he thought miserably, back then the head of Iscariot had been named Maxwell too. The first one had been a horrible person, to put it mildly.

"Why am I here?", Brown asked, trying not to let his voice shake.

"We found a lot of information has gone missing concerning the Vatican's work regarding Nazi Germany. We are trying to sort this out."

"So you're researching?", Brown asked. This wasn't half bad. He was working in the filing department after all. And he had been just a young priest back then, with no real jurisdiction. Iscariot should rather sort through their own mess. Brown had hoped to have put this behind almost sixty years ago.

"I'm not the only one you're interrogating?"

Maxwell smiled. Brown had the uncomfortable thought that the young bishop was mad. You could see it in these unnaturally bright green eyes. "Interrogating is such a dreadful word. It's just after such a long time it's quite difficult to find anyone still alive to give us any information. And it would be a shame if we would let our files get into disorder, right?"

Brown nodded. Shouldn't he know about this? He had been working for Section X almost his whole life. Of course, every Section looked into old files then and now, but something that big... But maybe he was just being paranoid. He couldn't know for sure how much Section XIII actually knew.

"The remaining files tell of an organization preparing for a possible defeat even during the early stages of the war," Maxwell said, shuffling the papers, more for show than actually looking up something. He didn't even bother hiding it.

"I wouldn't call it a possible defeat." The same instant Brown knew he had said too much. Maxwell didn't show any specific reaction, though. He just waited for the much older bishop to elaborate. Brown had to gather all his remaining courage to go on.

"They called themselves Millennium. I... I always had the impression they were not taking precautions, but were planning for a defeat from the beginning. At least of what I heard. I never had much to do with it."

"Now, let's stay with the truth," Maxwell said, almost amused. "You were one of the main connection agents."

Brown interlocked his fingers on the table to keep his hands from shaking. "I-I wouldn't say that. It was mostly Section Thirteen who coordinated the work. Archbishop Maxwell, actually." He had expected to catch Iscariot's director by surprise, but it didn't seem to work.

Brown could vividly imagine the old archbishop, with his limp and the scarred face and mean eyes. Would it be such a surprise to find out Giacomo Maxwell was actually an ancestor of this youth? They even looked similar. And both were dangerous.

Brown tried to get rid of the lump in his throat and found he couldn't. He swallowed again. What had he known back then? He had only been a little priest responsible for filing. Maybe his name was even on the reports lying in front of Maxwell now? That would explain how they had found him.

"There are a few names mentioned here. In 1945, there was a secret meeting between you, the Archbishop and two agents of Millennium."

"I was not present at that time. Only later, when the girl was alone." Maxwell raised one eyebrow and Brown hastily went on. "She was part of the Wehrmacht... I only know the names from the files. The so-called Werwolfs. I was only on filing duty," he repeated.

Maxwell tapped on the table with the tip of the pen. "Of course. You were... what, twenty? Younger than me now." He chuckled.

"Yes, exactly," Brown said miserably. What was the point in this?

"The leader of Millennium... did you ever meet him personally?" Brown wished he could wipe the sweat off his head, but he didn't dare to. Maxwell could not overlook his panic, of course. Brown only feared he might hit himself accidentally. He didn't know how to start. How could he describe this man?

"The only name given is "The Major"," Maxwell said.

"Yes." The name immediately brought a picture to his mind. "His real name was Max Montana - I think. He was quite a mysterious man." Brown couldn't suppress a helpless smile. He regarded Maxwell closely, but the younger bishop didn't show a reaction. The smile never left his face. Brown shuddered. This reminded him too much of this monster of a man in World War II.

"I met the Major for the first time in 1941, after the commencement of Barbarossa. He... he was still a lieutenant back then, but... the Führer's proxy, so to say. He had a decree from just below Hitler... It was quite astounding, actually."

"What was astounding about that? After the concordat in 1938 it was not exactly surprising they addressed the Vatican again, was it?"

"No, of course not... I mean the Major himself... He was... he was a disgusting man."

Maxwell spun the ballpoint pen between his fingers. "Like it would be expected of a heathen," he said with open disgust. "Describe this first encounter, please, your grace."  
Brown was a bit relieved. This was easy. "He was in his twenties, about twenty-six or twenty-seven. His height was about 160cm... awfully short for a soldier. Also quite pudgy, too. No, obese even. He didn't look like an SS officer at all, if you know what I mean."

Again this smile. "Of course, your grace."

"He had this... detestable grin that never changed. It seemed to split his cheeks while never being a true smile. And those unpleasant eyes, almost as if he was leering directly into your soul. They were golden and very bright, I remember that vividly. Really golden, almost yellow. You could see the madness in them. And despite being so fat he was always perfectly dressed. He could have very well been the Führer himself, his attitude being... being like a commander of Hell itself. Even now when I look back at it, he was a truly disgusting man."

"You are no doubt correct, your grace," Maxwell agreed. "What about the actual escape? The Major used a zeppelin, it says here."

"Yes. Walhalla, it was called. It was located in an abandoned factory in the countryside. As I said, I was only from filing... What I know is, we helped transport provisions and kept the operation secret from the public. It always seemed to me the Nazis were somehow involved with Iscariot anyway..."

"Oh really?" Maxwell propped his elbows up on the table. "Thank you for the hint. We'll investigate that of course." Was he even making an effort to hide he was lying? Or was Brown being paranoid?

_I'm almost 90_, he thought with bitter amusement. _How much do I have to lose?_

"So the Major was not a very pleasant man, to say the least," Maxwell summarized. "And yet you helped him transport goods and capital." The smile had become a bit more triumphant, Brown thought. Maxwell was greatly enjoying this.

"You have to understand, Father... Bishop Maxwell. He coerced us into cooperating. We would have never-" Brown broke off. "You should have heard him. "To savour the joy of war limitlessly. For the next war, and the next, and the next." It was... We had no choice!"

"No choice, you say," Maxwell said, amused. "Let's see. There was the project of transporting materials and personnel from the occupied territories. But of course, this was merely a plan for hiding their true intentions. Or, no, I should rather say it was a means to an end. The end being called Vampire production program, right, your grace?"

Brown felt himself grow cold. "What-?" He automatically wanted to stand up, but there was a strong hand on his shoulder pushing him back into his seat.

"Code name Last Battalion, if I'm not mistaken." Maxwell closed the ballpoint pen and laid it on the table. The little click sounded like a gunshot in Brown's ears.

Even if Brown had wanted to fight – a bad joke at his age – he would have been trembling too badly to even stand up. He felt icy sweat running over his face. "What- How much do you-"

Maxwell leaned back, crossing his legs. "Your grace, this is the very reason we exist. You should not underestimate us." A grin spread over his face, almost splitting it, the eyes wide. "You seem to misunderstand. This is neither an investigative enquiry nor a debriefing. An internal affairs enquiry? No! A court of impeachment? No!" He made no effort to lower his voice.

_Good Lord_, Brown thought.

Maxwell raised his hand and snapped his fingers. "This is an inquisition!"

Brown was grabbed, his head forced on the table. He had to painfully turn his eyes to see something. "They coerced you? Absurdity! All of you gladly offered your assistance. Pro-German? Pro-Nazi? Ridiculous! You wanted to become vampires, didn't you?" A look of rage crossed Maxwell's face. One eye was squinted, the other wide. Maxwell's voice was trembling with hate, but also... excitement? I was told he was dangerous, Brown thought miserably. But how could the pope get a madman to such power? Does no one see?

"His honeyed words awoke desire in you and you acted. You wanted it badly enough to turn your back on God-" He slammed his hand on the table. Brown flinched in panic. "-and sell your soul?! For a thing like that?! A bishop should know better!" The smile returned again. Brown could only try not to whimper. "However, the vampire research was not completed in time. All that was ultimately perfected was imperfect ghouls. Even so, the ability to place ghouls at the front line would have been fearful indeed, had the program not been destroyed by Hellsing."

Brown jumped up, desperately trying to make them see. "I- I was deceived! It was him! It was his fault! It was not just me! He got to- to all of us back then!" He could hear steps behind him. Shuffling of fabric. A gun being drawn. Somehow Brown knew it was the same blond paladin from before.

Maxwell seemed to try to look pitying, but all he managed was an expression of annoyance. He began pushing the papers on one heap and picked them up. "It pains me to think, even for an instant, that a bishop did this. Your grace, you should really try to contain yourself."

"Please, have mercy on me!", Brown begged. His terrified mind even tried to make him flee, but where should he run to, even if he still could have run? He didn't even know where he was. "Maxwell, for the love of God! I... I-" The clicking of a gun. A cold hard piece of metal pressed against his head.

"Unfortunately, I cannot," Maxwell said. He smiled and stood up. "If you were truly a servant of God, you would understand the Vatican could not permit your survival after you sided with people like them." Maxwell actually raised a hand as if to wave him goodbye. "Amen."

Please God, no- Darkness fell. Brown didn't even hear the shot anymore. A better death than a heretic like him deserved. Maxwell left the interrogation room. Another name off his much too long list. Traitors seemed to be especially long-living.

* * *

_Rome, Iscariot-HQ, September 7th, 2016_

"You are still here?" Lisa poked her head through the office door. Enrico didn't answer. He was focused on whatever was lying on his desk. Looked like some kind of old MP3-player. His phone was lying there as well. What was he doing now again? He had still not fully recovered yet. Music was playing in the background. Soft music. Nice trick, but not for me, brother, Lisa thought. But obviously he could not openly admit to some preferences. The thought made her giggle. Maybe not the right choice of words.

"Something funny?" His voice was absent. There were sparks of electricity and he jerked back, barely avoiding getting a load in his face. "Damn it!" For a moment it seemed he would direct his anger at her, but then his expression softened. "Hi there."

"What are you doing?", Lisa asked.

He grinned, making him look a bit like a child. "Oh, just a little gadget that might turn out to be useful at some point."

"So you're being mysterious again?" She pretended to yawn. "Suits me. You still on these investigations?"

"No, we're through. There weren't an awful lot of people left."

"Not surprising after such a long time, eh? I mean, who would guess that – the actual Nazis resurfacing?"

He leaned back, spinning a little screwdriver between his fingers. "Even if there was nobody left alive, we have the reports from back then."

"The Vatican likes to keep track of everything."

He laughed. "Indeed. They are a lot better than any individual memory."

"You were in the secret archives, right? How were they, except for big?"

"They were amazing." Lisa really wished she could have been there. Even among the clergy it was rare to get full access to everything. "Though not as dangerous as in Angels &amp; Demons."

"Saw something interesting except for what you were searching?"

"Tons of it, but my shadow wouldn't have approved of searching anything unrelated."

That struck Lisa to be somewhat ridiculous. "You're a bishop!"

Enrico didn't seem particularly upset or offended. "Standard procedure. Now listen up. Millennium was a secret project inside a secret project. Our code name for it was Project Aristotle, for some reason."

She raised an eyebrow. "I already know all that, we went through the files together."

"Yeah, yeah, but here's the funny part: The jurisdictions were wide-spread so nobody knew something specific. Except for a certain Archbishop Maxwell, back then leader of Iscariot."

Lisa had been studying the "gadget" lying on the table without understanding it. Technology had always been her brother's talent. Now she looked up, frowning. "Sorry?"

Enrico laughed at her confusion. "My reaction exactly. Archbishop Giacomo Maxwell. I checked, he's actually my grand-uncle... how do you call that? Even looked a bit like me. Though he was by far not as handsome." Another childish grin while he swiped a loose strand out of his eyes. Lisa tried to nudge him, but the desk blocked her way.

"God doesn't approve of arrogance."

"True." He shoved the gadget – whatever it was – aside and booted down his laptop. The music died. "Anyway, I still got to check on something in Section IV."

They walked to the exit together. "Another top-secret operation to protect our beloved church?"

"Nah, just a little project I thought up. Private interest, you could say."

He was keeping a lot from her lately, she thought. First these interrogations – nobody not directly involved even knew about it. But she thought she was actually quite involved, so she deserved to know. And now these things? Maybe he was just fooling around like so often. Or...

"How is the training with Renaldo going? I mean, you were sick of course, but in general?"

His glare told her he didn't want to talk about that topic. Lisa linked arms with him as they walked down the street in the direction of St Peter's basilica. The HQ of Section IV, Andrew, was located in direct vicinity. All headquarters were. In the case of an attack that was pretty stupid. But of course, most regular priests and nuns working here didn't know of such dangers. They wouldn't even dream of anyone daring to attack the heart of Catholicism. That's what the secret Sections were for.

They had reached the HQ of Section IV. It was not exactly flashy, just like Iscariot HQ. It also seemed to be shut down for the night. "You sure you'll get in?", she asked, eyeing the dark windows.

"I'm meeting someone. Had to call in a favor, but what do we have those for?" Another careless smile. He had been distracted, ever since these interrogations started. Lisa found it increasingly difficult to read him, something disturbing her more than it should.

_Jeez, Lisa, you're sounding like a jealous girlfriend!_, she told herself. _You're his sister and he's an adult. That happens._ The more childish part of her insisted that it was not right either way. Not for them.

"Okay then," she said. "Then I'll see you later." He already wanted to go, but she grabbed his hand, almost hesitating. He didn't seem to notice. "Watch a movie this evening? Or read Heinkel's latest report? It's quite a page-turner. Especially the bit where she runs around on all those trusses."

"We'll see. I think I'll go to bed early."

"Dinner's on you, just so you know. Besides, we haven't talked properly in an eternity."

She could tell he was far away with his thoughts again. "We're talking now."

Lisa shrugged. "Forget it. Ciao." She turned and walked down a bit of the street, then stopped. Enrico rapped on the door. After a few seconds, he was let inside. No light shone from the building, let alone show any person.

"Idiot," she mumbled. Lisa turned around and walked back to their flat.

* * *

The door had opened itself, it seemed. Automatics. He should have expected something like that from the technology department. Those geeks loved playthings. Understandable. Although Enrico would never become as good as them, it was still fascinating. Fascinating enough to ask for help (for counsel) even if that was the last thing he normally did.

The lights were shut off. Only a few small colorful spots blinked occasionally, leading the way. Enrico didn't check for cameras, although there were some, no doubt about it. The dark would make it impossible to spot them. Knowing the Andrews, it would be impossible to find them even in bright daylight anyway. He smiled and waved casually in a random direction.

Lisa's casual question had angered him a lot more than he wanted to admit. After that Romania thing he was in no state for fighting anyway. Renaldo said he was making progress, and Enrico knew it was true to some extent, but by far not enough. The number of bruises had decreased though. That was nice. Normally he would say to hell with it. He had no talent for things like that. He was the director and his paladins were experts. His teacher and best friends were the Vatican's elite. When would he ever need to fight on his own?

Except Romania. He didn't really want to think about that.

But he didn't want to give up either. It would make him look ridiculous. Nobody except for a few picked individuals knew about it of course. No, he would appear weak in front of Lisa. And that wouldn't happen. Ever. If he failed her, he failed all.

She had been bitchy for days even before Romania. He couldn't figure out what was going on. The work kept him busy. Now that he thought about it, it had already started with the secret interrogations. Lisa hadn't been part of it and she didn't like that. But he had his reasons. She hated killing, even in the name of God. An inquisition like that would only make her angry. She just didn't see it was necessary. That was okay. She would, someday. Until then it was his task to keep her out of trouble. It always had been and always would be. Enrico knew he was giving her privileges for being his sister, but he just couldn't help it. Luckily, all of those traitors were finally dealt with. Time had spared him some work, but the wicked were always long-living.

Besides, what was she yapping about? She knew everything important. He'd have loved to take her to the archives, but even though the Pope had given the direct order to give him full access, that extended only to Enrico himself.

The archives had been fantastic. He had been there a few times, but not to the part containing the volatile issues. The secrets one could find leafing through only one of those giant shelves! You'd need more than one lifetime to look through all of it, and that meant getting little more than a brief glimpse at everything. Of course he had no such time and his shadow – someone from Section X, he presumed, even though he wasn't told a name and didn't really care for it – wouldn't have let him, either. No specific orders were needed for that.

Millennium's history was worthwhile, despite being a huge shame to the Vatican. But so was the Protestant Church. In a matter of months both of them would not be a problem anymore if everything went according to the plans of the Holy Father.

Or what Enrico thought to be his plans. Officially, there were no plans, not even for Section XIII. It was guesswork, but simple one. For what else would they want an external-

"Ah, scusate, Monsignore!" Enrico was ripped out of his thoughts by almost getting a door in the face. He seemed to attract that kind of events the last weeks.

The boy in the door was roughly his age, but looked a lot younger. He had disheveled brown hair hanging in his face, dull gray eyes in a pale round face. He was in jogging trousers and a crumpled shirt, emphasizing his chubby body in a not too favorable way. Enrico looked him up and down while walking into the room. The boy – actually a man, unless Enrico called himself a boy too – blushed. He seemed somewhat familiar, but Enrico couldn't nail it just now.

"I'm terribly sorry for the mess, Monsignore. I literally worked on your request to the last minute." While in Iscariot the primary language was English, the young man used Italian.

There were technical parts, books and whatnot strewn over a large table in the middle of the room. Also not quite few empty packets of takeaway food.

Enrico frowned, looking at the monitors in what seemed to be the main room. Cameras everywhere, as expected, except for the director's office. Interesting. "I thought you opened the door?"

The boy hovered nervously at the edge of his vision. "Oh no, that was our visual recognition system." He blushed even more at Enrico's skeptical glance. "It's an experimental system. Sorry to use you as a guinea pig, Sir."

Enrico didn't pay attention. "Who programmed that?" He'd have loved to check on the code. Such a system would be useful for their own base at the orphanage.

"A-A friend of mine. A colleague, I mean. His name is Anthony Blake." This was the control room. There should be some little workshops in the building. The big ones were outside the city. Enrico had only been to the director's office on one or two occasions. Most people here were technical geniuses, but rather drawn-back. Too bad he couldn't check on all those cool little experiments. But he had enough to do for now.

"Well tell him it's a good idea. I might come back on it at some point, if you don't mind." It had surprised him a bit, knowing that the best programmers (hackers, to make it more precise) were all employed by Section VIII. Or so they thought. "Are you finished?"

"Yes, Sir. May I ask... where you got this?" The boy went over to the desk and showed him the sword and scabbard Yumie had brought. "It's actually made of steel and galvanized with silver. We couldn't exactly figure out the stones without a real analysis. Look like real, but have a few really strange reactions towards electricity. Almost fried myself." He laughed uncomfortably and was, at least physically, utterly ignored. "Pretty old, too, at least two-hundred years. Seems a shame to destroy it," he added quietly.

"Well, then it's good we're not doing this, right?" Enrico let his words sound sharper than necessary. The boy winced. Enrico took the sword and examined all the little changes this talented youth had made. "Is it still stable?"

"Yes. Though I don't get what you are-"

Enrico cut him off, not even looking at him. "And my other request?"

The boy nodded and pointed at a bag with seemingly unconnected technical parts. Enrico sheathed the sword and went over to look through the parts. There was his hand-written list, every point neatly ticked off, even with one little addition made by the boy. Of course the perfectionist in this undoubtedly talented young engineer couldn't have resisted to add what he thought to be missing, despite never being told what it was for in the end. Enrico smiled. This was perfect. All he needed to do was figure the rest out himself. Which would be pretty difficult, especially while keeping it from his sister. A surprise weapon should stay a surprise as long as possible. That should be logical. Besides, if he failed he could still silently dispose of it. That would truly be a shame. It was a beautiful weapon.

His irritation about Lisa's weird behavior was gone. He couldn't wait to get started on this. And maybe, just maybe, he could even test it against Renaldo. See what he said to his student beating him all of a sudden. He would need to practice in secrecy before. "Benissimo!", he beamed. "That was brilliant work. You really are the best of this bunch." The boy nodded, happy about the compliment, but already turning red again. "I didn't even ask your name. Seems I forgot." He did know the name. Theoretically. After the information he had about his surroundings had enabled him to come here like this. In all this mess he couldn't keep track of every little detail, could he?

"Cristoforo," the boy muttered. "Cristoforo Panini." Well, that was one unfortunate last name, Enrico thought with amusement. Now he also remembered where he knew him from: Cristoforo's twin was one of the newer paladins. They had the same face, with the difference that Giorgio was tall and slim.

Enrico put the sword in the bag. He could get started on this tomorrow. Either that or he worked on his other little project. Maybe better that, no matter how much he wanted to start right away with this one. He got to set priorities. He would soon meet this Hellsing woman and who could tell how fast things would develop in the future?

"Well then, good work, I've got to be off. And thanks." He started for the door when Cristoforo pulled together all his courage to actually raise his voice. One of these rare occasions passion overwhelmed fear.

"Sir, I just have to ask: If you make it, can you tell me how? We've been puzzling over this for an eternity. Please, Monsignore." He had the pleading sad eyes of a beaten puppy, Enrico thought in irritation. That was only fitting for cute little animals, not a Vatican operative, no matter if he worked public or not. "What are you talking about?"

Cristoforo followed him like a plump pet. "We've been researching this for months. The sword would help us a great deal. I-I mean it would still be yours, you would get it back with everything we accomplished." Enrico ignored him, but the boy followed. He was getting more desperate while this unique piece was getting out of reach for Section IV.

"Monsignore Maxwell, this is dangerous," the boy pleaded. "Even if you can generate enough energy, how do you want to channel it into the right form? We tried anything-"

Enrico smirked at him without stopping. "I really don't know what you are implying. I'm not an engineer. This is just some hobby of mine and I'd like to keep it private. Didn't we agree on that?"

Cristoforo stopped. He nodded nervously, shuffling his feet. Enrico raised a hand for saying goodbye. "Bene. Good night, Signore, keep it up." He left the room and walked down the hallway.

The boy had done amazing work. Their bargain was completely fulfilled. The boy didn't need to know Enrico had already removed all files he had found about the devoted, but unlucky family Panini in the archives of Section VIII. Not without getting himself a copy, of course. Digitization was a wonderful thing. Nobody checked the files marked as scanned ever again. Cornelius thought he was so clever. But Enrico Maxwell was a lot better. He grinned.

Of course, the problems the boy had mentioned had troubled him too. But he thought he might have a solution for that. The silver and gemstones should help. He hadn't been lying to the boy from Section IV: He was not an engineer. He had taken advanced physics and technology classes in senior secondary and always stayed interested, but that was about it. He never exceeded more than little gadgets like the one he was working on now. Programming had always been his stronger talent. This would take a whole lot of luck. And a lot of research of course. He had already read the reports from Section IV over and over, googled everything he didn't understand and finally came to some kind of idea what was necessary. It actually came to him in a really weird dream, just after that Romania episode. He wasn't so delusional or arrogant to think he understood this, though. But maybe this would not be necessary.

Somebody from Section IV, he didn't remember the name, it sounded Slavic, had had the right idea already, only lacked the results. So Enrico just borrowed these plans. Nobody would ever notice. He was not planning to go public with this as long as he was in any kind vulnerable to charges that would no doubt be led by Reinhardt Cornelius himself.

Enrico automatically scowled, thinking of Cornelius. He was over 80, for god's sake! Section VIII was long overdue to get a new leader.

The scientist should rather be happy about this breakthrough should it ever get published. They were working all for the same greater good, right?

Enrico's steps were lighter than at any point in quite a while. This would be the stepping stone for great triumphs. He could feel it. Becoming a bishop at his age had already proven him to be qualified. The Vatican would need a strong leader once the old Pope was no longer. That would take a few years still (Enrico could very well understand he was too young for such a position), but he could be patient. Until then, Cornelius wouldn't bother him anymore either.

First, he would prove Anderson and the girls he didn't need them for his protection. Then he could take the next steps. Millennium was just perfect for showing he could be just the leader they all needed.

After all, Enrico Maxwell was destined to become great.


	11. Us and Them

**Chapter 10: Us and Them**

__Imperial War Museum, London, September 10__th__, 2016__

It was surprisingly warm in England. Technically it was late summer, but the isles had a reputation of being either foggy or rainy. None of this was the case today. It was so warm they had taken off their coats already while walking to the entrance. The sun was shining brightly. Enrico silently cursed himself for packing it. He had enough to do with the briefcase over his shoulder.

A lot of families were on their way, but the museum itself was calm. Two huge fake cannons greeted the visitors as if to remind them of the power of the so-called British Empire. They just didn't want to admit how much their influence was falling to dust in the course of globalization. Where one power let off, another one stepped in.

"What's so funny?", Lisa asked.

"Nothing," Enrico responded with a smile. "Just thinking." She frowned, but didn't ask. He suppressed a sigh. Not again. Instead of commenting on her behavior, he studied a beautiful fighter aircraft with rounded off wings. The paint was green and there was a big red dot circled with white on each and on the sides. The sign said Mitsubishi A6M Zero. A Japanese aircraft from World War Two. How fitting. "Beautiful, isn't it?", he said, walking around the plane. Lisa watched him, clearly impatient.

"Yeah, absolutely. Enrico, it's ten to three and we don't even know where we have to go."

"I know."

She crossed her arms. "Nice. Then let's go, before we are late."

"We have time." He went along the rows of aircrafts from all around the world, studying each one with the same curiosity. When had he been in a museum outside of Rome the last time? Any museum? Lisa followed him about, silently fuming, but not saying anything.

At two minutes before three, Enrico turned his attention away from the planes. "That way." He waited for her to catch up and they walked along the long, bright hallways. Lisa got a glance at a sign. The painting gallery was at the other end of the building.

"Do you want to be late?" She glared at him. "You can't be serious!"

"If it's important, come five minutes early, if not be five minutes late. We're on their territory, but the Protestants don't make the rules in this." Lisa only rolled her eyes. Why did he have to be so childish now of all times?

They reached the meeting place at three past three. It was a long hallway, marble floor. Their steps sounded like in a tomb. The hallway was empty. Enrico grabbed Lisa's arm after half of the way to keep her from going on. "I think that's it." He had only seen a blurry photograph on the Internet, but this had to be the painting. "Should be, at least." It was dark and depicted two rows of spears in front of a setting sun. Not the most cheery subject.

From afar there were voices of other visitors. Caitlyn Hellsing was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe she was fed up with waiting for people like you, who are rude on purpose," Lisa jibed.

"It's five past three," Enrico answered, checking his phone again. "She can't be that impatient."

"You never know. What did you find out about her?" He didn't answer. Oh right. He had a feeling he forgot something. He cleared his throat. "Can you hold that?" He handed her his coat and briefcase. She scowled. "I'm not your gofer, okay?"

He gave her a charming smile. "No, you're my wonderful little sister that will get a great reward for her help. How sounds dinner and a nice movie?"

"Acceptable," she sighed. "I'd rather prefer to know what the hell is going on. You never tell me anything!" Before he could answer, there were hasty steps on the other end of the hallway. They both turned to see a young woman, just a bit younger than Lisa, run up the corridor. She wore tight black jeans, a dark blue blouse and sneakers. Not too revealing, but emphasizing her slender shape. A ginger with blue eyes, the long hair in a ponytail. The skin was relatively dark for that combination. Enrico looked her up and down, not able to hide his surprise. Lisa rolled her eyes. Priests or not, men never changed.

"Sorry," the woman panted after stopping a few meters before them. "Did you wait long?"  
"Not at all," Enrico replied with his most charming smile. "Though I'm surprised you are alone. At your status, that must be quite dangerous."

She frowned for a moment. "I have my ways."

"Most certainly." It was a damn shame to see a girl like her condemned to hell. She looked much younger and more vulnerable than he had expected.

"What does the Vatican want?", she asked, getting back her breath. "You were rather mysterious."

"No need to be so rash. We haven't even greeted each other."

"Right." She slightly wrinkled her nose when she laughed.

...Why the hell did he note that at all?!

"Caitlyn Hellsing." She stepped forward. He met her there, in front of the giant painting.

"Enrico Maxwell." They shook hands. Hers was slender and cool, but the grip was firm. She looked him straight in the eyes and he wondered what she thought. It almost seemed analyzing and that was a bit scary to be fully honest. She broke the connection by letting go.

"And you?" She looked past him, to Lisa. His sister seemed just as surprised as he was. Bodyguards literally never got any attention, never mind getting asked for their names.

"Uh... Lisa," she answered, unsure what to do. "Lisa Hamilton." She had set down the briefcase and put both coats on top.

"Well then, pleased to meet you both," the young Lady Hellsing said friendly. Enrico and Lisa looked at each other, equally confused. Turning up with the vampires out in the open might not be the best idea, and she was obviously not stupid. But he had expected her to be hostile, at least unfriendly. Unless this was all a trap. Would fit these heathens.

"I didn't know Iscariot had female agents. Considering the Vatican is rather biased towards that," she continued. "You two are pretty close, aren't you?"

Enrico felt his composure stretch, accompanied with a little twitch of his left eye. "I'm not sure if I get what you mean."

She blinked. "Oh. No. Forget it. Just a thought. I like reading people, but maybe I'm overdoing it again." Another laugh, slightly awkward this time. "Back to business. It's good I can finally speak to someone who is in charge of the infamous Section XIII." Another cute smirk. She had her thumbs linked in the belt loops of her jeans. The collar of her blouse was open.

Lisa kicked against his ankle. The pain made Enrico snap into reality again. The heathen woman knew exactly what she was doing. He was getting distracted and she was sounding him.

"I suppose there are a few tales about our work," he said, his voice immediately icy. He needed to get back in control. "Of which most are probably not true."

"Well, I was in Badrick and it was most certainly true that _your_ Father Anderson was _a bit_ overly aggressive," she said, almost perfectly in control. She wasn't intending to start a fight.

"You shouldn't have come to a territory that is not yours then," Enrico replied. His patience was stretching. Now the demon showed her true face. He had been stupid to judge by the first glance. All of a sudden a quote from his Literature class in school came to his mind._ Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't. A beautiful flower._ He had almost fallen for it.

"I don't give a bloody damn about this stupid contract!", she snapped. "I didn't attack first. Anderson did and if he didn't tell you before, he _killed two of my men_!"

Enrico felt Lisa take his hand. Her grip was firm, warning. She tried to hold him back. It accomplished that he could make one last effort of self-control. A fight in public was the last thing they needed. That was why they were here in the first place.

"Well, what about it?", he asked. "Do you expect me to care about you infernal protestants? If it were not for the Holy Father's direct orders, I wouldn't even bother talking to the likes of you filth!" He made a step forward, giving Lisa no choice than to let go. Caitlyn Hellsing fearlessly faced him in a clear "Go on and try" manner.

"_I would not do that_."

Lady Hellsing probably flinched just as much as he did. For Enrico, this wasn't so much the vampire itself. She had a Romanian accent and that brought memories back he wanted to bury forever. Memories of cold and pain and darkness. He managed to push them away.

The vampire wore a long red coat and a hat. Enrico's next thought was: _Why didn't Anderson tell me it was a woman?_ Then a very huge black gun was aimed at his head. Enrico took a step back, startled. Lisa had already groped for her weapons, however useless they would be against this opponent.

"Mira, no!", Caitlyn Hellsing commanded, just as shocked. The vampire ignored her. She stepped out of the wall completely, towering over them.

"That's exactly what I had expected from Section XIII," she said. "Always trying to impose their will on everyone. Nothing ever changes. Nothing has changed in Rome for 2000 years."

Enrico made a careful retreat, his eyes fixed on the gun. Such a muzzle suddenly looked a lot bigger when it was directed at your face. He managed to hide his nervousness well, he thought.

"Well, hello," he said casually. "You must be Miss Hellsing's infamous nosferatu. A bit early for you, Alucard."  
The eyes behind the orange sunglasses flashed. "I prefer Vladimira, actually." Before she could go on, Caitlyn Hellsing more or less clung to her arm and forced the gun down.  
"Bloody hell, stop it, we don't want a fight!", she pleaded more than ordered. "What are you doing here anyway? I said you would not accompany us!"

The vampire smirked. "I didn't. Can't I visit a museum if I want to?"

Caitlyn's jaw literally dropped at this. Enrico thought in a mixture of amusement and worry that she was obviously by far not such a great enemy if she couldn't even control her pets.

"And then he tries to attack you," the vampire growled. "I cannot let this go unpunished." Enrico winced, but before the vampire could even raise the gun, there were heavy steps in the corridor behind them.

_No, no, no, no! I told him to wait outside!_

He spun, just to see Anderson draw his bayonets. The paladin began walking down the hallway towards them as if this was just the perfect place for a fight, blades glistening.

"Ask o' me and I shall gie thee the heathen for thine inheritance," Anderson boomed. Enrico felt all color leave his face. For a moment he was frozen in place while Anderson drew closer, bayonets in hand and reciting bible verses.

"Anderson, no, wait!" Enrico felt panic rush over him. This was not supposed to happen. This was not what he had planned. _This is it. I'm done. Section XIII is done. If this escalates we're being dissolved and I'll end up as a village priest in the Apennin Mountains. Cornelius will get exactly what he wants._

"A' will be settled wi' just a blow. Whit good's Iscariot, or the Vatican, if we let an enemy slip oot o' oor grasp?" Anderson was grinning. He didn't even notice Enrico's desperate commands.

Iscariot's director spun to meet Caitlyn's gaze. "Miss Hellsing, he lost all control! You have to leave-" Enrico was knocked aside. A red coat hit him square in the face and he almost fell. The vampire – _Vladimira_, what kind of joke was that? - pulled out a second gun, silver, but equally big and stood to face Anderson who already raised his bayonets.

Somebody grabbed his arm. He expected Lisa and was startled to see it was Caitlyn Hellsing.

"We have to stop them!" He looked in her eyes. Determination despite her fear. She was an opponent to be reckoned with. Her hand was firm on his arm, almost burning through the fabric.

They started off at the same time, running the short stretch of the hallway and then blocking the two fighter's way, back to back. Enrico faced Anderson, Caitlyn Vladimira.

Lisa could have killed him. "'Enrico, are you sure it's such a good idea to bring Anderson?' 'Oh, come on, who do you think I am? I have everything under control.'," she mimicked angrily. There was a giggle. She turned to see a dark-haired young boy, about fifteen, sit on a bench, legs crossed, watching the events from the shadows. He noticed that she saw him and greeted her with a nod. Then he stood up and made a polite gesture to a far-away sign that said "Private". Red eyes flashed. He vanished. Lisa looked back to the two fighters and their commanders.

Enrico and Lady Hellsing were desperately trying to talk their subordinates out of this. It could be funny, seeing how huge vampire and paladin looked in comparison to their bosses. One mighty blow could break these tiny humans apart.

"Oh Enrico, this overconfidence will get you killed someday," she whispered, then turned and ran for the door.

"Yes, let us kill, Judas Priest!", the vampire said, aiming her guns at the paladin and grinning wildly._ NO!_

To Enrico's horror, Anderson followed along. He shoved up his glasses. "Jus' like last time, vampire." He didn't even look at Enrico. It was as if the bishop wasn't there at all. In comparison he was just a fly, unable to do anything if they actually intended to start this. Enrico felt anger cut through the panic. How did Anderson dare to disobey like that? Enrico was the boss. His hard work had brought him there and his orders were better followed double-quick!

"Anderson, stop it!", he commanded. "There is no need for violence!" Caitlyn Hellsing was pleading her vampire to stop. Both were utterly ignored. "Anderson!", he made a last desperate attempt. The bayonets glistened in the light. Anderson and Vladimira made another step towards each other, their commanders locked in the middle. The two humans flinched, meeting in the middle back to back. Caitlyn's ponytail brushed over his neck. Strangely calming not be alone, even if the other one was an enemy.

_Ding-dong._

A steady female voice began speaking. "Dear visitors. We regret to inform you that the museum will be closed to the crowds from three fifteen to four pm. We have to ask you to leave immediately. During this time, there will be exclusive tours organized by the St. Luke's foundation, which enables children from orphanages to visit art galleries and museums. Thank you for your understanding."

The complete scene could have very well been marble. There was a low grumbling sound. Enrico was still trying to gather his thoughts, but managed to look for his sister. Lisa was gone to somewhere. God bless her.

The grumbling turned out to be Anderson chuckling. "Vampire?", he said.

"Yes?", came the response.

"Ah've lost interest."

"Yes, this is no atmosphere for fighting."

"Exactly!", Enrico and Caitlyn exclaimed at the same time. Enrico thought his legs might give way out of relief. But of course they didn't. That would be embarrassing.

"Ah'll wait outside," Anderson said, stashing away the bayonets. After a few paces, he stopped again and turned around. The kind smile on his face would have calmed any frightened child. Enrico on the other hand looked like a deer in the headlights of an approaching car.

"This is an excellent museum. Mebbe next time we can bring some o' the kids fae the orphanage," Anderson said.

Enrico was suddenly aware of a single icy drop of sweat rolling over his temple. He forced himself to some kind of smile. "No problem," he promised. Anderson seemed satisfied and turned around.

"Next time Ah'll rip her tae bloody pieces."

_Fine with me, but please not here_, Enrico thought. He still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that this had gone without any bloodshed. Miracles did happen after all. Thank God.

"I'm going back to the mansion," the vampire said. "Being up all day makes me sleepy."

"Stay away from Anderson," Caitlyn Hellsing said, sounding defeated. Silence. The vampire had obviously vanished. Enrico hadn't turned yet. The silence was getting awkward and they were still standing like glued together.

He briskly walked over to his briefcase just as Lisa returned. She shot him a cheerful smile. "Thank you. I owe you," he said in a low voice when picking up the briefcase. Then, more official: "Can you keep an eye on Anderson? I think we'll be fine." What kind of mocking glance was that?

When had they talked properly the last time? He suddenly missed that a lot.

"No problem." She also took the coats and headed the way Anderson had gone, nodding Goodbye to Lady Hellsing. When she had disappeared, another awkward silence resided. Enrico forced a smile on his face. "That was probably the worst start possible, eh?"

She smiled as well, a lot more successful than him. That was nice. She was beautiful like that-

What the hell. He needed to clear his head, and soon. Yes, she was good-looking. So what of it? So was the vampire woman. They were enemies. Protestants, damned to hell.

"We both seem to have quite difficult subordinates," she said.

_That's one way of saying it._ "Now that the violence is out of the room..."

She interrupted. "Speaking of which, we _can_ keep this peaceful, right? The two of us. I admit I was a little preposterous getting so angry, but so were you."

"You didn't seem to be worried," he shot back. There they were going again. So much for keeping it peaceful. But Lady Hellsing just nodded. "Why should I? You wouldn't slap me."

"No," he said slowly. Of course he'd never do that. No matter how much he had wanted to just minutes ago. "How about we continue this conversation in the cafeteria?"

"Sounds lovely." She waited for him to catch up.

They made smalltalk, which was about the last thing he had expected after this. She asked him how he liked Britain and he said it was beautiful (which was true – once the heathens had been purged, it would arise even better from the ruins). They talked about the exhibits and he found out she was obviously a Shakespeare fan. At least he recognized (or thought to recognize) not few of her expressions as such. When asking, she nodded and asked with sparkling eyes which of the plays he read. She seemed to have forgotten who she was talking to completely. Did she even see him as an enemy? She was either silly or too optimistic. Boiled down to the same thing in the end. A dead protestant.

Whichever it was, they soon reached the cafeteria. "I'll get us something," she said and took off.

"Don't you want to ask me what I'd like?" That had more been a rhetorical question, as she was already a good deal away. But she turned and grinned.  
"I have an idea. See it as an experiment and tell me if I was right later."

He saw her talk to the clerk and shook his head. This encounter not going how he had expected it to was a vast understatement._ Why doesn't she treat me like an enemy?_

Enrico sighed and looked around for a table. The cafeteria was almost empty except for a couple sitting in the shadows near the doors. The sun was shining brightly outside, concealing everything but vague shapes. He wouldn't even need a coat.

The terrace was empty. He went outside and set down the briefcase beside the chair. When he opened it, he made the mistake of using the left hand to take some of the files. Pain flared and he cursed. He had forgotten all about it in the last half an hour and that was a mercy. Healing took its time. He had wanted to wear gloves, but it was just too warm. Lady Hellsing could not have missed the bandage by now.

"Hurts bad?" His head shot up so rapidly he almost lost his balance. Caitlyn Hellsing set down two steaming cups. He hadn't heard her coming.

"I'm fine, thank you," he said sternly and put the files on the table. For some reason, they always seemed to be a bit of a shield. The folders literally screamed "secret Vatican info about the Nazis". It had been pretty easy finding them, considering the German eagle and the swastika was on it. Whose idea had that been in the first place?

But Caitlyn Hellsing didn't pay them more attention than a short glance. She shoved the cup over to him. "Tell me if I was right," she demanded.

Enrico picked up the cup and frowned.

"I'm not trying to poison you or anything," she said with a cute laugh. Enrico took a sip. It was still too hot to drink, but tasty. Hot chocolate. He managed to hide his surprise while putting the cup somewhere it wouldn't spill all over the documents.

"How did you know that?" She just smiled. That was bragging, pure and simple. Fine, he would play along. Proud people made mistakes. "Alright, Lady Hellsing. You managed to make me curious. That's what you wanted, right?" No answer but a smile. Bloody hell and what a smile.

_Jesus Christ._ The question was not what was up with her, but with_ him_.

She watched him closely. "Well, I already said I like reading people. It's some kind of habit. You didn't look like a coffee person."

"I don't have to tell you I don't believe you, right?", he said, crossing his legs. God, his hand hurt like hell. "Fine then. Tell me what you think you know about me." He internally cursed himself for not researching her better. Officially there was nothing more to find. Well, he could have checked on the Vatican's archives. Or the British. But his mind had been on his projects. He was getting closer every day.

Caitlyn Hellsing crossed her legs and watched him for another moment. He suddenly wondered what she saw. "You can guess I looked into you before. There was not an awful lot, I have to admit. So let's stay with my guesses.

First, you're born in Italy, but grew up in Canada.

Second, your first language is Italian. You don't like your accent and are trying, somewhat successfully I have to say, to get rid of it. Either way, you learned English at a young age.

Third, you're working a lot with computers.

Fourth, and maybe most interesting, the girl that was with you. You two are a lot closer than boss and his bodyguard. You've been a team for very long and understand each other blind. You trust her judgment." She made a dramatic little pause. Enrico didn't like how all of this had to sound to an outsider. "She's your sister, obviously."

Enrico could barely keep himself from staring at her open-mouthed. Lady Hellsing couldn't have trouble reading _that_ expression. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

"She held you back and you actually responded to it. If she was just a subordinate that wouldn't be. Also, that single glance you exchanged, the only one you needed to know the others' thoughts. I'm normally not assuming anything objectionable of anyone at the first meeting, but even if, that kind of team play goes further. I'd say you grew up together. She got me with the different last name, though. Where does that come from?" He kept silent. She had been playing him all along. He had been an idiot falling for it. Who told her all of this?

If she could actually follow his thoughts somehow, Caitlyn Hellsing didn't comment on it. "Considering she's not Italian, one or either of you is adopted, I'd say," she continued. Enrico wanted to say something to break this spell, and found he couldn't. Certainly she was excited about her deductions. Not exactly professional. So maybe she _did_ figure it out herself?

"As to your language, you use exclusively one area-related choice of words, meaning you lived there for quite a while. That little "Eh?" at the end of your sentence gave you away. That's stereotypical Canadian. British Columbia, right?" He nodded automatically. "Your sister is Canadian as well, so it would be logical to assume you grew up there together. But it's not your first language, because you still have a slight accent that gets stronger when you are under pressure. Like when you talked to Anderson a few minutes ago. Also, it's obvious in the way you're saying 'Iscariot'."

"What's wrong with the way I say Iscariot?", he growled. This was getting ridiculous. She just smiled. Wait.

...Hell, she was right! He _did_ pronounce it Italian, even while speaking English. He had never noticed that before, nor thought about it.

"Are you trying to be some kind of the next Sherlock Holmes, Miss Hellsing?"

"Oh no." She laughed again. "It's just my way of thinking. Making these guesses is really helpful. Though I'm told most people don't want to hear it."

_What game are you playing? Why all of this?_ "Well, I'd like to. Please go on."

"The rest is simple logic. I'm not guessing about reasons, but since you try to eliminate said accent it is obvious you don't like it. About the computer part, you have a habit of tapping on the table that reminded me of typing for some reason. Could have been caused by something else entirely. It was just a wild guess, really."

When had this conversation turned such a strange way? Enrico smiled to hide his discomfort. He had made a mistake underestimating her. "I'm impressed. And this?" He picked up the cup of hot chocolate. It was cooled off now. Tasted awesome, he had to give the Brits that.

"Oh, actually Mira gave me the idea. When I read your letter, she asked why it was smelling of chocolate. The envelope was, or so she claims. I didn't smell anything, but then again, she's a vampire. And W-" She broke off. "Well, I actually just wanted to know if my guess was right."

It was the first time she had broken off to correct herself. Now it was Enrico's turn at guessing what she actually had wanted to say. A name beginning with a W or V. That person had done what?

Simultaneously, Enrico's thoughts wandered back to his office. Of course, the envelope had been lying next to his cup all the time. Only a monster could pick that up and only by chance.

She smiled, suddenly awkward. She was not so much younger than him, he thought. That attitude of hers was childish, but he knew that from the Chaos Girls and Lisa. And she certainly didn't look like a child anymore. No, she was a woman all the way.

_Stop it right there, Maxwell!_, he commanded himself._ She took you by surprise and you're confused and focusing on the first thing you see. She knows that. That's the trick. Gather yourself. No one will ever get to hear about this_, he thought, knowing he would have told Lisa before evening.

...Why did she have to be so cute for God's sake?

"We trailed off a lot," Caitlyn Hellsing said. "I always do if nobody stops me. I'm terribly sorry. We didn't come here to discuss you or me."

"I wouldn't say that." Brown's typical words. Just one of all the pathetic traitors, all of them squealing and begging in the face of the Lord's justice. "Your estate was attacked by an army of ghouls, led by one Emily Reese, daughter of Sir Phillip Reese. How is she, by the way?"

She tensed. Perfect. "Good."

"Nice to hear. We know of your situation. All of your men were killed and you are on the brink of destruction." Was that a smile? Enrico didn't like this. He should have the upper hand, but so far only she had held the threads in her hands. "You are still searching for whoever is responsible, right? Millennium."

"That is right. Though we know who they are. Or were." She didn't manage to stun him this time. Old files was what they had, yes. But the Allies had never known even a splinter of what the Vatican knew.

"Ah, really," he said slowly. "This is, so to say, top-secret... But we have some information about Millennium." She raised her gaze from her cup without the anger he had expected. "Want me to tell you? If you're so well-informed you already know, I suppose you don't need it."

"That's the point of this conversation?", she said with an exaggeratedly charming smile. "Let's stop the games. I accept that you have the upper hand in this." So much for his plan to tease her a bit.

"Who says anything about games? It is unheard of us to offer help to any of you infernal protestants-"

She cut him off, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Of course. You wouldn't even be talking to me if you had no direct orders." She sighed and suddenly grinned. "Even though I think we could have a wonderful conversation. You could be a decent bloke, if you would bother forgetting all this stupid hostility." He hesitated. What kind of trick was that? "As I said, I have no interest in a conflict and I don't care about this stupid contract." She took the uppermost folders he had laid out.

He was too flustered to think straight. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted down that she was left-handed. "What contract?"

"The treaty concerning Northern Ireland. That's what this is about, right?"

He called himself an idiot. "Ah. Yes. We figured we would be in debt because of that treaty violation in Badrick."

"So the deal is: You tell us and in return we recognize the Vatican and Great Britain are even," she said, already leafing through the files.

"Yes," he growled. "One last thing. What do you say if you want something from somebody?"

She looked up and smiled at this last desperate, and pretty childish attempt to gain the upper hand again. "You really like displaying dominance, don't you? But you're right. I forgot my manners. Please, Father, no _Bishop_ Maxwell. Please tell me everything you know about Millennium, no matter what."

"Alright, alright," he agreed. She offered him the folder she had taken, but he didn't need any notes. "A lot of Nazis fled the border after the defeat of the Third Reich. They had various names, none of them important to us. During the war, it would have been desertion, after the defeat of Germany it became a mass movement. Most fled to the various South American nations sympathizing with the fatherland. But Millennium had its roots even before the attack on Poland."

It was satisfying finally seeing _her_ surprised. No games anymore, at least not on her conditions.

"The Millennium we know of is both a military unit and a project. They worked throughout the initial stages of the war, gathering capital, document and equipment to be transported to South America. All classified, of course. They were traveling through Europe to do so."

Lady Hellsing looked at the map included in the files. The occupied territory was a dark gray, important stations marked in black, including the dates. Somebody had carefully drawn arrows marking Millennium's way in red pen. Maybe even Brown. That would be pretty funny.

"The leader of Millennium was the Führer's proxy, a certain Maximilian Montana."

"Sounds fake."

"It probably is, but that is all we have on him. He was a lieutenant until 1942, later on only known as 'The Major'."

"What was that in 1943?", she asked, pointing to a little black X near Berlin. "Who are the werewolfs?"

She had an astounding talent for filtering the important out of all the details. "Yes, that was when Millennium's work sped up. They wanted to build a special division and searched for fitting personnel. The choice of words was "people with special talents", I think. We don't know anything specific except for two names: Rita Patrizia Degener and Jolene Krüger." The names seemed to ring a bell. She nodded.

"There were six persons associated with the leadership of Millennium. Max Montana, who was the definitive leader, the two women, and three men only credited as the Doctor, the Captain and Schrödinger." It was like telling a story to a child. Caitlyn Hellsing was an eager listener. So much for the knowledge she had claimed. It was almost scary how cute evil could look.

_Jesus Christ, Maxwell, get it together._ He sighed, which provoked a curious glance. But she didn't ask. "Schrödinger? Like the physician?"

"That's the name given. Somebody drew a sketch there." Caitlyn flipped the page. It was only a rough drawing, but quite skilled. It showed a boy in the typical Hitler youth uniform. He had fair hair to his ears. Or where the ears should be. His were sticking out on top. Cat ears. In a very neat handwriting whoever had done the report had written "Schrödinger" below it. Enrico had always assumed it was one of the legends surrounding Millennium or somebody had gotten bored. The name was mentioned a few times, mainly as a messenger boy. Enrico doubted he existed or at least not like this. But let Hellsing chase after ghosts.

Instead of asking if he was joking she only nodded. Enrico suddenly doubted his own theory.

_Nonsense. If she believes this, she is crazy._

"I'm not going to lie, we don't know anything more about the werewolfs or this Doctor. Not where they come from or who they are. The Captain was a special agent for the Major. And this Doctor was-"

"The genius behind their vampire research," they concluded together. Their eyes met and Caitlyn smiled at his surprise. Then her gaze returned to the documents. She was talking to herself while her fingers traced all the different routes. "They barely escaped during the liberation of Paris. Then Walter and Mira destroyed their research in Warsaw."

_Walter?_ Surely the name she had not wanted to mention earlier. The question was why she wanted to keep him secret. She hadn't noticed her mistake. Enrico smiled. He could always look into this at home. He hadn't bothered checking closer on the attack so far, but maybe it would be helpful after all. This Walter was obviously still alive, though he had to be an old man these days. If he was still a human. Seemed to be quite unlikely by now.

"They went to Italy," Caitlyn Hellsing said. Enrico needed a moment to get back to the point of their conversation. She was still looking at the maps and didn't notice. Phew. He had to be extremely careful from now on, seeing how easy she could read him.

...Or she had been informed by one of Millennium's many spies. They couldn't be sure who was involved after all and he wouldn't be surprised to have the heathens team up.

Was what he normally would have thought.

In reality it didn't make sense and he could not imagine this woman to be teaming with the Nazis.

"Here, to Rome," she said. Well, she could study the documents all she wanted. The information about the measures the former representatives of the Vatican took – some of them written by the late Archbishop Giacomo Maxwell himself - were in his briefcase, safe and sound. She didn't need to know about this.

"You helped them," she said, sounding surprised, which in turn surprised Enrico. These days, the 'rat lines' were (unfortunately) well-known to the public.

Enrico smiled, which he hoped looked mocking. "Is that one of your deductions?"

"You helped those monsters escape. Even though they went against everything you fought for." Her voice was suddenly shaking. _Ah look. The moment things are not going like she expected, she's not so tough anymore._

He grinned. "Yes, the Vatican helped them. Considerably." He finished his hot chocolate and leaned back. "Of course, we took care of them now."

She looked up and he became aware that she hadn't been talking to him at all. "Did you?", she murmured. "That's... good, I think. I'm glad."She was a bit like Lisa. The same stubborn ideas and dreamy way.

_What the bloody hell are you thinking? She's not at all like Lisa!_, he scolded himself.

"What about this?", Caitlyn asked. "Why were they in Romania?" Enrico stood up and leaned over the table to look at the map. He couldn't remember anything about that. But there it was, a dotted red line, marked with '1933'. Her hair smelled of... was that lavender?  
"No idea," he admitted. "That must have been before the Vatican became interested in them."

"I see." She leafed through all the documents once again, pausing to read some parts then and now.

"Can I keep those?"

"Not these versions. I made copies." He took a neat folder out of the briefcase and handed it to her, ignoring the new pain searing in his hand. She returned the originals and he briefly checked if it was really all of them. Seemed like it. He packed them and closed the briefcase. So this was it. Not exactly what he had expected. They stood up.

"A quite unusual first encounter," he said, not able to hide a smile she returned. Working with heathens was never a nice thing, but maybe she'd make it worthwhile. Until they took control in Britannica, of course. Aside from that: You couldn't kill all of them. And she was as unorthodox as he had ever seen someone in the leadership of Britannica. Maybe at least she wasn't beyond saving. They shook hands.

"Indeed. I was pleased to make your acquaintance, Bishop Maxwell."

"I agree, Lady Hellsing. Until next time, I presume?"

"Under better signs, I hope." He didn't comment on that. An open lie was nothing he wanted to try after her little demonstration. She was good, he had to give her that, but showing her talents so openly was an amateur mistake. You never showed your hand in the first round.

"One last thing. How are we going to continue?"

"They are located in South America. I will send some of my agents there for gathering information," Enrico said. "I'd say a cooperation will be most profitable for both of our organizations."

Caitlyn smiled. "You make it sound like we could actually bury these stupid hostilities. That sounds great. I will give you a call sometime then, if you don't mind. A letter would take too long."

He ignored the obvious stinger. She just wanted him to let something slip. "Of course, Lady Hellsing."

Caitlyn stayed where she was while he left the cafeteria and returned to the painting gallery. He texted Lisa a quick "Where are you?" she replied to with "At the Zero".

He met her there, examining the old war plane. "How did it go?"

"Where's Anderson?"

"Outside, enjoying the sun."

"You make it sound like there's nothing of that in Italy."

"His words, not mine." She linked arms with him while they walked back to the entrance. The hallways were completely empty now. "Come on, you gotta tell me how it went."

He sighed. How could you describe it? "That," Enrico said eventually, "was maybe the weirdest conversation I ever had in my life." He then recounted everything Caitlyn had said, roughly what he had thought (the bits about how beautiful Caitlyn was he left out, though, for obvious reasons) and how they had concluded.

Lisa was silent for a while. They reached the foyer. "You two have such a crush on each other," she said with a grin.

He felt his cheeks flush and hoped it was with anger. He would have liked to stop, but she didn't let go and pulled him on, keeping them from seeming suspicious. "What the hell are you talking about?", he growled.

"Oh come on, did you see- well, technically no. But I saw how you looked at her. And she at you. You always had a thing for redheads."

"Lisa, you're childish and ridiculous," he snapped.

She laughed. "Oh really? Well I remember you had that crush on Ginny Weasley..."

"I was twelve! Don't warm up old stories. Me having a crush on Caitlyn, Jesus Christ..."

"You on first-name basis already?", she jeered, nudging him. Enrico glared at her, but then they were outside and Anderson was waiting and they couldn't continue this topic, though he would have had to say a lot more.

Yes, Caitlyn Hellsing was attractive and strangely sympathetic.

She was also a heathen, and an enemy, and an evil, manipulative person employing a cute facade. No way he could ever like her. He, the director of Iscariot, having a crush on that woman?

That got to be a bad joke.

* * *

Caitlyn sat back down and watched her surroundings. Birds sang, the sun shone. A bright day in late summer. It was lovely. No wonder Walter had been grumpy the whole day.

"What do you think?", she asked.

"The girl seems to have more brain than him. She's calmer. As to that guy? He's a twit. Arrogant and pretty slimy." She could almost hear his grin. "Was ace how you set him up, though."

"I didn't really set him up," she said. "I just wanted to see how he reacts. Pretty much like everyone I confront with such things. He was thinking about other sources I could have used. That's normal."

"The bit about his sister got him," Walter laughed. "I never would have thought. They don't look alike at all."

"Blood doesn't make family," Caitlyn said softly. There was a brief silence. "Besides, he's not slimy. Just a bit arrogant, you're right about that. But he's not a bad person."

"As I said, a twit. Typical Catholic clergy, if you ask me. Wonder who beat him up."

Caitlyn could see Enrico Maxwell walking down the path from the main entrance, around the cannons. He was carrying the coat over one arm, the briefcase over his shoulder. His hand had to hurt awfully by now. Caitlyn still hadn't figured out what had happened. He didn't seem the kind of guy to go on a dangerous mission, where he – as Walter had put it – got beat up and injured his hand like that. Whatever had happened to it.

Lisa walked by his side, Anderson a few paces in front of them. Lisa said something, and Enrico smiled. It was just too obvious how much they loved each other, in a family sort of way.

Caitlyn had to think about a cute picture she had seen. Two kids, a boy and a girl, not older than six. "I love you", said the boy.

"Like grown-ups do?", the girl asked.

"No, for real."

How true. No dangerous missions for him. Except he didn't have a choice. And for her, maybe?

They vanished from Caitlyn's view. She turned around. Walter sat on a chair in the deepest shadow around. He was no more than a shade himself, his red eyes slightly glowing in the twilight.

"Too bad he's an enemy," Caitlyn said.

Walter seemed to raise an eyebrow. "What about him? He was arrogant, he threatened, mocked and insulted you... Of course he is."

Caitlyn smiled and looked at the bright sky. "Oh, I think he was quite charming."


	12. Fall of the peacemakers

**Chapter 11: Fall of the peacemakers**

_Iscariot HQ, Rome, September 12th, 2016_

If he kept on pacing like that, the floor would just split open, Lisa thought. She had her legs drawn to her chest on her usual place on the windowsill and watched the director venting his rage at Anderson. The huge paladin was sitting on one of the chairs, silently enduring the scolding.

"This is the _second_ time you brought us to the edge of an international incident!", Enrico barked at him. "Do you have any idea what would have happened?! A fight in public, on enemy territory, no – directly in a British museum with surveillance cameras everywhere! Can you imagine where that would put us?!"

Lisa didn't doubt Anderson could very well imagine that, even despite not saying so. Enrico wouldn't pay attention to a word he said now anyway. He needed to cool off before anyone could talk to him again. He didn't need to bite back on anything. There was nobody around to hear they had screwed up. Again.

"Just because of that damned vampire!" Enrico was shaking so bad it seemed he might just fall to pieces right there. Lisa had the sudden urge to hug him. Anderson didn't argue. Not this time. There was nothing to argue about.

Enrico was right.

"We came there for making peace about this Badrick thing," Enrico went on. "Oh wait, you caused that, too."

"On your orders!", Lisa interrupted. Now he was getting unfair again. Enrico shot her an annoyed glance, but at least he had bothered to listen.

"Whatever. That's not the point. We wanted to calm the situation before we have a scandal. And what do you do? Almost run headlong into a fight with this monster! Were you even listening? I told you to wait outside for a _reason_!"

"She held ae gun tae yer head!", Anderson protested weakly.

"The vampire is answering to Lady Hellsing's commands. I was fine."

"Aye, because look hou guid it listened tae her," the paladin murmured.

"I was fine," Enrico repeated. He had waited two days to arrange this little meeting. Partially because he wanted anyone he didn't trust with his life (meaning they would be no spies for Cornelius or Millennium) to be away from base. And mostly because he wanted to be calm when recapitulating the meeting. That had proven to be useless after thirty seconds.

"Imagine- Just use your head", _for once_, he wanted to say, but didn't in the end, catching Lisa's glare, "Caitlyn. Hellsing." He added the last name almost hastily. "We were lucky, you know that? She was patient, she was a lot less hostile than I expected, she was-"_ lovely,_ his mind proposed. He could stop himself from saying it in the last moment.

This had to stop. He not only pushed the thought aside. He ripped it to pieces and stomped it into the dust only to find the echo still stuck in his head.

"Anyway, this was our easy way out of a difficult situation. She didn't want this fight, but she was also not desperate enough to draw straws. She could have just refused the deal - " He broke off. "I won't go on about what might have happened," he said slowly, walking to his chair, but not sitting down yet. Calm down. Everything went well. Everything concerning the deal, at least.

"Screwing this up will cost all of our heads and Iscariot as a whole. You know how much people like Cornelius hate us. Why in the world didn't you wait outside?"

There was a brief silence, only broken by the uncomfortable rustling of a coat. Then, quietly: "Ah got bored."

Enrico fell heavily on his chair. "You got bored?", he asked. He didn't get the meaning of those words. "You got _bored_," he repeated slowly.  
"Thought we should ken aboot hou the heathens think. And it wis ae nice museum. I'd like tae show it tae the orphanage kids."

Enrico wasn't sure if he would start laughing, crying or shouting in the matter of a few seconds. It all seemed equally possible. This was a bad joke. This was _hilarious_. Of _all_ people _Anderson_ pulled such a stunt? The man that had taught him about the importance of sharing and patience?

Lisa left her spot on the window to place a hand on her brother's shoulder. She tightened her grip to stop him from shaking. Enrico just stared into space for several seconds. "Ah," he finally said. Silence. Then: "I see." Another silence. "You're heading back to the orphanage, right?"

"Aye," Anderson replied carefully.

Enrico flicked against two envelopes lying on his table. "Take that to the Chaos Girls and Camille, when you're already at it." Anderson took that as the sign to leave.

"Goodbye. God bless you."

"Amen," Enrico said. His eyes were already absent again. Anderson took a last glance at the director of Section XIII before he closed the door behind him.

There was a long silence while Anderson walked down the hallway and left. Enrico slammed his hand on the table once again, somewhat easing the pressure. He was still trembling like in a fever. "Idiot!", he hissed. "Sometimes I think I could as well be talking to a wall!" Lisa didn't move and also didn't let go. This would go on for a while and that was good.

Only it wasn't. Enrico leaned back, sighing and taking her hand. "Thanks. For saving the day in Britain. And for this. ...You think I'm being too hard on him?"

She laid her arms around his neck from behind and leaned on the chair's backrest. "No, this time you were right. Anderson shouldn't have charged at the vampire. Though you've got to admit Badrick was your order."

He rubbed his temples. "Yes. I know. And by now I wish I had just ignored that incident."

"Which could mean Cornelius – pardon my French – up our asses," Lisa said.

Another heavy sigh. Sometimes it sounded like he was carrying the whole church all alone. Maybe it was not that far off. Iscariot was the secret legion that got all the shit and was punished for doing the dirty jobs in already dirty politics in the end. It was unfair.

"Did you look into the attack already?"

"No," he said after a moment of hesitation. Lisa didn't even ask. He had been working on this stupid sword for days. What was he planning with that anyway? Lisa just could not imagine him fighting with this sword. Or fighting at all. Imagining Enrico in the front line was... unsettling.

"What about this second vampire that was with her?", she asked.

"What second vampire?"

Lisa frowned. "The boy. Black hair, bit smaller than me, slender, vest and tie... no?"

This time, Enrico actually made an effort to control his voice. He didn't want to shout at his sister. "We were hearing all sorts of rumors about her having two pet monsters. I actually thought this to be ridiculous. But looks like I was wrong." Pause. "_And you tell me this now_?!" So much for not shouting. Lisa stepped back when he jumped to his feet.

"I actually thought you saw him," she replied, biting back on her own anger. "Glowing red eyes are not exactly easy to overlook. He didn't seem to plan on stepping in. He pointed out the door to the control room, actually."

"So Lady Hellsing has another pet that's a bit better trained." Enrico leaned on the table, the white bandage seeming suddenly very bright against his skin. Walter. The guy Caitlyn had tried to keep secret. How could he possibly have forgotten about that?

Lisa sat on the desk in front of him, next to where his palm lay on the surface. "When we're already at it, what was that about Caitlyn Hellsing?" They had dropped that topic in London and not taken up again yet. Enrico didn't want to. Of course not. But Lisa was sick of this secrecy. That had never done them any good.

"What about her?", he growled. "I already told you about the conversation."

"Yes. That's not the point. You need to focus. Or at least get your feelings into some kind of order."

His eyes flashed. "I have no idea-"

"Oh, you do! I don't need great observation skills to tell if you are lying. Even to yourself."

"Still no idea. If you want to know, she acted weird, yes. Even for a heathen."

Lisa blinked. That argument was hilarious on so many levels. "Enrico, she was flirting with you."

"Huh?"

She could barely suppress a laugh. Oh God. He really didn't know. Sometimes he still had the maturity of a five-year-old. "Didn't you see that? She was flirting. Looked pretty successful, judging from how you looked at her."

"That kick was unnecessary."

"That kick was just what you needed. You were staring at her like a kid in the zoo. You're a bishop, remember?"

"You're changing the topic!"

"No, you are. You two had a crush on each other the moment you looked in the other's face. I mean, that's natural. You're both handsome, about the same age, similar intelligence..."

He turned away and started for the door. "I have to go. The Holy Father granted me an audience at three and I got to check on something in Section X first." He wanted to get his coat. Lisa blocked the way and grabbed his wrists to stop him. Her dark blue eyes seemed to burn. "I'm sick of this. You're never telling me anything anymore. Not about what the Vatican is planning, about these investigations, not what _you_ are doing. I'm not saying..." She searched for words. "You've got a right for privacy like anyone. But... You're not telling me anything at all. At least stop giving stupid excuses."

Enrico looked at her, trying to get the point of what she was saying. _She's acting like a jealous girlfriend. _

_That_ was the problem? "Well... You didn't ask."

She let go. "Oh." Men. Mum had been right all along. They just didn't get it. "Well then, do you mind getting a drink and talking about this? I'd love to know what these projects of yours are, for example. I'll try to understand all the technical blabla."

"Of course not. I mean, yes, we can do that and I don't mind. But not now, okay? I can't keep the Holy Father waiting." He put on the long coat and waved her goodbye before jogging down the corridor. He would have to hurry, if he wanted to check into this second vampire. It was astounding how long Caitlyn had been able to hide him.

Lisa just had to understand he was busy. Once this was taken care of, they had more time to talk. He couldn't wait to show her what he had been working on. And demonstrate his progress in fencing. He was by far not good enough to win against any paladin... but he was a bit proud anyway.

Enrico arrived just in time, when the secretary wanted to tell the Holy Father he wasn't there yet. He didn't even give Enrico the time to take off his coat. The man was small, and weasel-like, and had a particular dislike of Section XIII. No wonder, considering all the information they had about him. The room full of paintings and gold had once been threatening. By now Enrico was used to it, but could still feel the power radiating from the Holy Father's throne. It was fitting to the position.

The Holy Father was concealed in shadows. These days he seldom showed himself in public. He was getting old and didn't put up with it as good as he should be. Someday, it would be him, Enrico Maxwell, sitting up there, holding the world in his hands.

"My dear Maxwell. It is good to see you," the Holy Father said. He motioned the secretary out of the room and sighed. It was quiet until the doors had slammed shut. "You can never be too careful these days."

Enrico knelt down and bowed his head. "Indeed, Holy Father." God, was it always that hot in here?

The Pope chuckled. "Well, then. How is the matter progressing?"

Enrico described what they knew about both Hellsing and Millennium. He had finally looked into Caitlyn Hellsing and Hellsing in general. Astounding enough, he had never found a trace of evidence about any vampires working for them. "Walter" turned out to be the family butler, born in 1930 and working for them almost as long. He would be a good deal over 80 now. Unless he was the vampire Lisa had told him about. But until he knew more about this, the Holy Father didn't need to be bothered.

"As far as we know, Hellsing isn't well acquainted with the other members of the Convention of 12. Caitlyn Hellsing is generally seen as too young and unsuited for her post. So far, she has been able to fend off any attempt to take over Hellsing."

"She is a force to be reckoned with, then?"

"Yes, Holy Father. She is quite dangerous, I believe. Especially having this vampire at her disposal. It already destroyed most of Millennium in World War Two, as you very well know, your Holiness." How much had he actually expected the vampire to listen to Caitlyn's orders? Not so much as he would have liked. "She has the full support of the queen, which explains the huge scope granted for her work. Rumor has it, Lady Hellsing is quite independent in mind and by far not as conservative as the others." He couldn't give more hints at the role he intended Caitlyn to play. Maybe, just maybe, she had a chance at survival. He had everything laid out. The Holy Father only needed to ask for it.

"And Millennium?", the Pope asked.

"We have reason to believe they are only interested in Hellsing and said Vladimira."

"Vladimira? Bishop Cornelius tells me the vampire is called Alucard."

Enrico suppressed a smile. Take that, Cornelius. "That is correct. However, her actual name is Vladimira. Obviously, Alucard is only a given name from the past. But seeing how well England is concealing their affairs, there is no way Section VIII could know about this."

"You are protecting Section VIII? That is noble, seeing your responsibilities clash now and then."

"We are all just servants of the Lord."

Another chuckle. "Well said, Bishop. To conclude, Millennium will most likely target Britain. Were we able to track them down already?"

"Unfortunately, this is not the case yet. I'm sure the agents of John are working on it. With respect, Holy Father, how do you plan to react to this threat?"

"We seem to have no choice. Bitter enemies trapped in the same boat. Are you sure about your judgment of Hellsing?"

The Holy Father had never asked something twice. This couldn't be good. "Absolutely, Holy Father. The cooperation will be worthwhile once the enemy has revealed itself." The plan was as simple as effective. They would finally reclaim what belonged to them.

"You in Section XIII go through so much. Shouldering the blame for this thing seventy years ago... forced to deal with nothing but dirty business," the Holy Father sighed.

"You don't need to be so troubled, Your Holiness," Enrico answered, not bothering to hide his smile. This was the big chance the Vatican had been waiting for ever since Henry the eighth forced his wonderful country to leave the path of God. It was the chance_ he_ had been waiting for all his life. "Utilize Iscariot to the point of destruction if you see fit. Besides... the sinners might very well deal with each other, until they are ready to fall into their graves."

Another chuckle. "Yet again, an excellent choice of words. I will make the necessary preparations. I will need some information what you estimate we might need. As to this, I'd like you to meet someone very special. Stand up, if you will." Enrico rose, glad to get some kind of feeling back into his legs. Somebody, some_thing_, slowly made its way down the hall.

"Pardon if Ah dinnae bow, Yer Holiness. Ah doubt Ah would get back up again." It was an ancient woman. Her voice was rough. She was not much bigger than a child, her back bent low over her walking stick. Spotted dark and waxy skin flapping over her distorted body. Few lank hairs were pulled into a miserable knot on the back of her head, covered by a black veil. The face had disappeared in wrinkles. Arthritic hands were clenched around the handle of the stick. She seemed to be in pain with every move. Any child would run screaming from these remains of a woman. And yet she wore the clothes of a paladin, complete with a coat, gold-rimmed and with violet fodder.

She stopped in front of him and looked up. Her eyes were the only bright thing about her. They were sparkling with wits not even whatever had wasted her body could take away. Enrico could just stare at her. The only thought he managed was:_ She has the same accent as Anderson._

When he opened his mouth he hoped he wouldn't just blurt out a horrified "What happened to you?". "Enrico Maxwell. Pleased to meet you."

The woman laughed, which soon turned into a cough. She doubled over and might have fallen if Enrico hadn't caught her arm. It was disgustingly soft. He had no problem holding her. She seemed to have hardly any weight at all. After a few seconds, she straightened up as far as her distorted back let her. "Say aw ye want, lad. Ah'm too old tae mind."

Enrico didn't _know_ what to say. She smiled with blackened teeth and gums, which was quite a horrible sight. She looked like a movie witch, but now he couldsee an aura of kindness.

"Maxwell, this is Paladin Kenzy Greer," the Pope said.

The old woman barked a laugh. "Ah havnae been ae paladin fae years. Ever since Ah retired in... when wis that? 1963?"

"How... how old are you?", Enrico asked without thinking. Succubi, vampires, the occasional werewolf, terrorists... it was not a pretty business. But nobody had prepared him for something like this.

"Exactly onehundred and fourteen years, lad. Enrico, 't wis? Yer friends calling ye Rico, Ah bet?"

He nodded slowly. Onehundred and _fourteen_? Well, she looked like every last one of these years. No. She looked a lot worse.

"Holy Faither, Ah think thon lad needs ae chair."

Enrico tried to concentrate. One hundred and _fourteen_, Jesus Christ, and _he_ should need a chair? He felt his cheeks burning. "N- No, I'm fine. Thanks," he murmured. "But maybe you..."

"Ah'll survive standing ae puckle o' minutes. Ma back's thanking me."

She grinned at him in a way showing the young and witty woman she once had been, despite twisted lips and blackened teeth. Sometime between the World Wars, if his mental calculation didn't fail him completely. She had been born in 1902. Good Lord. But someday back then, she had been pretty. Beautiful, even.

"Kenzy is a dear friend of mine," the Pope said. "And Paladin Anderson's teacher, I should mention. She trained him until he became a full paladin in 1960."

"Hou's Alex doing?", Kenzy asked.

"G-Good. He's doing great work."

"He healthy?"

"Uhm... yes...?", Enrico answered, not sure how to answer that. "Better than most of the paladins, actually. He's... he's a regenerator after all."

Kenzy smiled softly, like a loving mother. But there was also a lot of bitterness. "Thas guid. Ah'd like tae see him ae last time. He's ayeways been ae guid lad. Ye think thas possible?"

"Of course," Enrico said after a moment of hesitation. Alexander had never said much about his own training. When he did, he only said "ma teacher". As a child, Enrico had always imagined someone Anderson's size and power, not a frail woman like this. "He'd be glad to see you, I'm sure. He should be in the orphanage. Shall I take you there later on?" He shot a quick glance to the Holy Father. The man just listened to them.

Kenzy laughed. "Ah'richt, but only when the kids are in. Ah'd just startle the lads and lassies." Her eyes caught him, unnaturally bright in her wasted face, reminding him of his own impolite and childish reaction. "Nou, Samuel, whit aboot telling thon poor laddie whit's gaun on?", Kenzy asked.

Enrico didn't like being treated like a child in general, but being 114 years old probably gave you the right not to give a damn anymore. She was talking about Anderson like the huge and not exactly young paladin was a child as well. Enrico had never expected to hear something like that.

The Pope laughed. "I have to admit, I wanted to see your reaction, Maxwell. You're used to dealing with odd things after all."

"If Ah'm not odd, Ah'll be damned," Kenzy added with a grin. "Ayeways wis, if ye believe ma lad Alex."

"I see," Enrico said. He was so confused by now that his mind was just shoving everything aside to have a blank space to start anew.

"Maxwell, what do you know about the regenerator process?", the Pope asked.

He thought about it for a moment. "Not much, I have to admit. I think there was some kind of serum involved. The early experiments took place after World War One and it was completed in the sixties. ...Anderson is the only one we got at the moment."

"Very good," the Holy Father said. "The experiments were first conducted on animals. I cannot explain the actual process. You would need a scientist for this. But in general, the basis is a serum, like you said. The actual "turning" is very painful and only few survived it. There seems to be a special constitution needed. Alexander Anderson is the only one who could be successfully transformed without being affected in any other way than it was supposed to."

"What do you mean affected...?", Enrico asked, a thought forming in the back of his mind. But that was ridiculous. Look at this porcelain-like woman. Alexander was big and powerful, the exact opposite. Of course he had been a perfect choice.

"Not being able tae die can be ae curse," Kenzy said. "Yer body giving wey. But much mair... seeing aw ye love waste away knowing ye willnae follow fae ae lang time. Ah pity him."

Enrico could only stare at her. This frail old woman, wasted by time and... what had been done to her? She smiled. It was not a pretty sight. "Ah wis thae first they uised the "wonder" on back then. Didnae work oot like they planned. Had Ah known, Ah wouldnae hae voluteered." Her legs seemed to give way and Enrico caught her. He knew the disgust he felt was unjustified. This woman was a hero. She had given so much for their church and nobody even knew about her.

"Thanks, laddie. No. Enrico. Rico? Ah'm too old fae remembering so much. Ma memories are slowly slipping awey. Ah am. Finally. But first Ah want tae see ma Alex again."

"Kenzy is right," the Pope suddenly said. Enrico had almost forgotten about him for a second and winced miserably. "Maxwell, I arranged Kenzy to come here from Scotland to help us a last time. She will give you information about the regenerator process and all that is connected with it. Anderson does not know about most of this himself. You might need it. I don't have to tell you all of this is secret, right?"

"Of course not."

"Very well then. Kenzy, it was wonderful to see you again."

"Never thought ye little lad would make it that far," she answered and laughed. "Farewell, ma lad."

"Farewell. It was an honor to know you, teacher."

Enrico bowed. "Farewell. Uhm, I mean goodbye. Excuse me, Your Holiness," he stuttered._ Bloody hell. At least Caitlyn is not here._

_...What?_

"You do great work, Maxwell. I'm very glad to have such a reliable man at my side."

"Thank you, Your Holiness."

He got up again and escorted Kenzy outside. It was agonizingly slow, but he didn't push her. She made her way with determination, despite pain shaking her body with every move, and refusing his help. It was the willpower of a once strong warrior. _Kenzy Greer._ He vaguely remembered that name. She had been honored, though silently in the manner of a secret organization, for her work. Iscariot had always been male-dominated and he had just assumed it belonged to a man. And someone born in 1902 he had not expected to meet alive.

Outside, directly on Piazza San Pietro, a car was waiting for them. Enrico didn't know the driver. Probably someone from Section I or V. The man gave him the keys, but stayed where he was, on the steps to the basilica. Enrico didn't ask. He opened the passenger door and helped Kenzy inside, ignoring the pain in his hand. He noticed a dark leather briefcase on the back seat. Enrico got in and started the engine. It was the time of the lunch break and the streets were packed. It would take an eternity to reach Ferdinant Lukes. And Enrico wasn't that much of a driver anyway. He didn't even own a car. What for? He was living almost next to anywhere he needed to be.

They drove in silence – not counting Enrico's occasional curses – until they were out of the city. The orphanage was only a few minutes away now. "Sairy fae startling ye like that," Kenzy suddenly said. "Samuel ayeways wis into such things."

Enrico took a moment to realize she was speaking of the Holy Father. "No problem at all. I was just... confused. Still am, to be honest."

"Ye are facing ae dangerous enemy," the old woman said softly. "And Alex will be important. Verra important." She fell silent again. The street flew past, trees and houses and colors. They pulled up in front of the orphanage. Even here you could hear the kids yelling while they were playing in the yard. Many of the paladins had been here as well, years ago. Future paladins were maybe playing here right now.

Enrico killed the engine and wanted to get out. Kenzy grabbed his arm before he could open the door. Her bent fingers were astoundingly strong. The blue eyes seemed to be burning, fighting against her decay. That was what Enrico remembered best later on. Those burning eyes.

"Director Maxwell. Ye have tae promise me something," Kenzy said. "In the bag ye'll find aw ye need tae ken. Ah also wrote ae wee bit on other matters. There's yin problem wi' all o' them. They're reckless. Samuel and Alex and aw the others. They'll dae _anything_ if they think it's necessary. Ye hae tae protect them fae themselves."

"Of course," Enrico said as seriously as he managed. Maybe she was senile after all. Wouldn't be much of a surprise at that age.

Those eyes held him all the time. It was unsettling, to be honest. "Ye think Ah'm not in ma mind," Kenzy said. "Thas ah'richt. Ah'm old and ye're young. Youngsters think like that. Ayeways did, ayeways will. Just promise tae protect ma Alex. Ye dae that, aye?" Enrico could not imagine anything Anderson of all people could need protection from, but nodded anyway.

"I promise." Kenzy looked him in the eyes for a few more seconds and seemed satisfied after all. She let go. Enrico used the time he was outside the car without her to rub his aching wrist. Jesus Christ. How could such a porcelain-like woman be that strong?

Anyhow, she didn't seem strong when he helped her out of the car. Just old and tired. They walked up to the orphanage and Enrico opened the gate for her. Anderson was outside, watching the children. When he saw them, he was at first just surprised. Then surprise turned into shock and a mixture of joy and something awfully similar to fear. He jumped to his feet and met them halfway down the path. This was the spot Enrico had been standing when they first met, he thought. Unlike then, it was not sunset, though. He remembered that in all details.

"Kenzy, guid Laird, whit are ye doing here?" Anderson knelt down and still was taller than her. She locked her thin arms around his neck, looking not much bigger than a doll.

"Wanted tae see ye ae last time," she said softly, stroking his cheek and the scar. "Ma Alex. Ah ayeways told ye, ye'd be great wi' kids." She stepped back, leaning heavily on the walking stick. "Ye haven't aged ae day since 1969."

"Aye," Anderson answered. That was all. They seemed to communicate without words.

"Ye ayeways hae been guid. Dinnae dae anything stupid, ye hear me?", she said. Her knees gave way. She fell into Anderson's arms.

"Kenzy? Kenzy!" It was the first time Enrico heard panic in his former teacher's voice. Kenzy lay in Anderson's arms, limp, her breath ragged. Her eyes were falling shut slowly.  
"Alex... Ma laddie Alex."

"Teacher." Anderson's voice was shaking.

Kenzy smiled. "Ah'm so proud o' ye," she whispered. Then her eyes turned glassy and lifeless, the smile still on her face. Anderson just stared at her, motionless, too stunned to do anything.

Someone tugged at Enrico's sleeve. At first he didn't even notice. There were tears glistening in Anderson's eyes and that had shattered some important part of Enrico's world view. He wasn't even sure if his body would follow his commands now. The tugging became more insistent. He was able to turn to the little boy standing there, observing everything carefully. "What's wrong with her?", the boy asked in Italian. "She dead?"

"Yes," Enrico answered slowly. Kids had never been his specialty.

"She looks awful."

"Dinnae talk like that aboot the dead," Anderson snapped. "She wis ae hella lot more important than ye ken!"

The boy winced and hid behind Enrico. "Sorry, Father!"

Anderson stood up. His movements were heavy, as if he was carrying a weight much bigger than the small woman. "Can ye tell Marco tae help me oot?"

"O-Of course." Anderson nodded and slowly walked away. Enrico was left standing there with the little boy.

"Hey Signore? What happened to her?", the child eventually asked, probably expecting another reprimand. Enrico was searching for his phone to call Renaldo. Or Lisa. Or anyone.

What had just happened?

For some reason he had to think about this briefcase on the backseat of the car, just meters away. "Nothing," he said absently. "She was just very old."

_Hellsing mansion, near London, September 12th, 2016_

Caitlyn drew little spirals on her second notepad. Around, and around and around, in neat little rows. Helped her think. Not that she hadn't thought about anything else than one and the same topic since the day before yesterday.

Enrico Maxwell. _Bishop_ Enrico Maxwell. He liked being called by his title.

_Possessed he is with greatness._

Right. She hadn't written that down yet. She did so on the notepad she used for the important notes. It was almost full. Caitlyn had gone through all of this for what felt like a zillion times, but it couldn't hurt writing everything down. She already had a sheet for Alexander Anderson. He had been tougher to read. No wonder, panicking like she had been. The only things she had: the scar. Raspberries. And Mira's weird reaction. Even in the museum, she had been... weird. Caitlyn had no other word for it and didn't bother to think about it. She had other things in mind.

Enrico had done remarkably well. Everyone would have been surprised by her deductions. He certainly wasn't used to someone actually "finding out" about his sister. They didn't look alike at all, Walter was right about that. Anyone else would assume... things. _That got to be annoying._

She looked over the notes. Enrico loved showing off power. Caitlyn wouldn't go so far as to assume some kind of inferiority complex... except there was the fact he was adopted.

_There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face._

"Sorry, Will, but I disagree. You just have to look closely."

_Now don't exaggerate. You're not a psychologist, Katie!_

She had written something. Caitlyn looked down at the second notepad. Katie. Pretty weird spelling in comparison to her actual name. But looked better than Caitie or Caity. Nobody had ever called her that. Not that she remembered. Then again, her name was a problem in general. People tended to spell it "Katelyn" and by now she had trouble hiding how much that pissed her off.

Her gaze fell on the info Enrico had given her. It was pretty much what he had already told her. Not all the Vatican knew, obviously. He was not stupid. Educated, intelligent... ah, yes, also arrogant, fanatical, sneaky... Definitely ambitious. She looked down at what else she had written.

Oh, right. _Handsome as fuck._

She always had had a thing for blond guys. And long hair. And green eyes. And an Italian accent, apparently. Damn. _No need to lie about it, right?_

Caitlyn shook her head. First Walter, now the Iscariot bloke. Bloody hell. No wonder the Round Table was doubting her qualities. They had a point after all.

_Yeah, start thinking like that, Morris. Then you can resign at once._

Back to the bloody subject. Enrico Maxwell. Even if she couldn't get her feelings under control, she must not underestimate him. Nobody got into such a position at that age by being nice and quiet. She startled him and was able to read into him a bit. That was good. But another time this would be hard. And she was not so stupid to think he'd return her affection. The only thing holding the really fanatical part back was Lisa Hamilton. The meeting had been a way to pay back the debt of the treaty violation. And she couldn't help thinking the Vatican had its own plans for Hellsing and Millennium.

_I like not fair terms and a villain's mind._

Oh right, she hadn't mentioned to him that he had a cat. A beige one, probably. She grinned. Either that would have freaked him out completely or it would have been the easiest part to explain. Cat hairs stuck to pretty much everything, the stereotype said. Except for the cat of course.

Somebody rapped on the door. It was a heavy sound. Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom. Five times, loudly and seemingly agitated. That was neither Walter nor Pip or Seras. Mira never knocked anyway. And Caitlyn would bet it was none of the Wild Geese.

She could hear Walter's protest when the heavy door was opened. Two men came inside, both in black suits, sunglasses and an identical short cut of dark hair. "Sir Hellsing?" Number one was not really tall, not like Enrico or even Mira in her true form, but also not short. Quite a bit taller than Caitlyn.

She looked them up and down. Military positions. Used to orders, but also giving orders. Looking around for threats. Professionals. But not closer informed, as they ignored the biggest threat standing directly behind them.

"If you mean Arthur Hellsing or even his daughter, I'm afraid both are not available. Lady Caitlyn Morris Hellsing, it is."

They didn't even allow themselves a frown. Remarkable. The second one stepped forward. He was taller than his colleague, but also not tall in absolute terms. Walter shoved him aside to enter the room, keeping out of direct sunlight. He claimed it was not some big enemy to him, but he hated it anyway. He was in his true form of a 14-year-old, the way he had been at his turning. They must have taken him by surprise.

"I'm terribly sorry, Lady Hellsing, for letting them barge in like that." Before he could continue, the man who was not short pushed him aside.  
"Get out of the way, lad, and let the adults do the talking." Walter's eyes narrowed.

_Oh God._ Caitlyn stood up more loudly and hastily than it was preferred for a lady. The two men looked at her, again no emotion displayed on their faces. Walter was distracted for a moment. Caitlyn used that moment to step between him and the agents. Either they were blind or ignorant or suicidal. Caitlyn brushed Walter's trembling hands. If the agents saw it, they didn't react.

"How can I help you, gentlemen?"

"The queen wishes you to join her for tea," the man who was not short said.

"Immediately," his partner added.

Caitlyn got a glimpse of herself in the mirror that helped her watch all of the room from her desk. Trainers, jeans, a slightly crumpled blouse over a tee shirt. She had ink and pencil stains on her hands. "Uh... I don't think I'm suitably dressed for such an occasion. If you give me ten minutes-"

The one who was not tall interrupted. "I'm sorry, Lady Hellsing, but we have orders to bring you to Buckingham Palace without delay."

_Great. Just great._ Walter handed her her coat. Not too flashy, but also not shabby. Thank God for him. And in the pockets should be lemon tissues for getting rid of the worst stains.

"Walter, please go and wake Mira, we leave at once." He nodded and disappeared into the shadows.

"That kid is your bodyguard?", the one who was not short asked. Caitlyn ignored him, glad that Walter was hopefully already in the basement and couldn't hear this.

"They will join us soon," she said as she walked to the door. Twenty-one, down the corridor. Fifty-seven. A descent like that could only come from Walsh or Irons. Or possibly Reese. Emily was back home, but had a hard time adapting. She had lost both of her lower legs. Not to mention her mental state. The physical part was at least partially Mira's fault, which meant Caitlyn was – in the eyes of Reese and many others – equally responsible. Not that anyone told Caitlyn in the face. They didn't need to.

_They act as if I had kidnapped the poor girl and then set up the attack. Nobody cares for my men._ She had forgotten to count, but now they reached the front door. Mira and Walter, both in the form of young adults (Mira again ridiculously pretty), were already waiting. The two agents didn't pay them more attention than a short glance.

"For a moment I actually thought she'd bring that brat as a bodyguard," the one who was not short said. Caitlyn shoved Walter outside, directly into the sunlight. At least that kept him a bit busy. A black Mercedes was parked directly in front of the entrance. Caitlyn frowned. Who had opened the gate for them? And why hadn't she been informed? Even Walter had been surprised by their arrival.

She could hear gunshots in the distance. The Wild Geese were training again. "Has Captain Bernadotte been informed?", she asked, her thoughts drifting from this puzzle to her new subordinates. The Wild Geese were doing exceptionally well. They were mercenaries, yes, but Caitlyn had no trouble imagining them to work for her permanently. She liked them, they fit all criteria. And if she waited long enough, maybe there would even be a marriage. Not even too long. Poor Pip Bernadotte had a lot of jokes to deal with, now that his fiancee was not making a secret of it anymore. Caitlyn would like that. Maybe after this Millennium thing was over and the Vatican was dealt with.

"Yes, Master," Walter said, trying not to show how much he hated standing in the sun. Mira didn't seem to mind.

"Good. Then we can go." She went to the Mercedes and opened the rear door. The benches faced each other. On the other side, its back turned to the driver, sat someone. Caitlyn climbed in, followed by Mira and Walter. Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the relative gloom as opposed to the bright sunlight. She had expected Walsh or Irons, maybe even Reese. But it was Shelby Penwood. He smiled at her, not able to hide his nervousness in the presence of the two vampires.

Caitlyn beamed. "Sir Penwood, what a surprise!"

Penwood smiled nervously. He had never been comfortable with Caitlyn's supernatural partners. Then again, when was he _not_ nervous? Nothing out of the ordinary.

The car left the huge mansion behind and turned onto the highway. "What is this about?", Caitlyn asked. _And why couldn't I have at least five minutes to change?_ She already dreaded stepping in front of the queen like this. After opening the sloppy ponytail she wore for working in private, she tried to get at least some kind of order into her hair. It was funny: When in the orphanage, she had always wanted short hair. After leaving and taking her post as head of Hellsing, cutting her hair was one of the first things she did. Just to realize it looked crappy. So now the ginger strands were falling over her shoulders to the middle of her back. Though Enrico's ponytail had been even longer. Was it as soft as it looked? She would have loved to try.

"I don't know. The queen requested you to come immediately."_ Yeah. So you couldn't give me a call. It's not that you don't need at least half an hour by car in that traffic._

"I already heard that. Oh, and by the way. Your agents – I suppose they are yours?"

"What did they do?" Penwood shot a glance to Mira and Walter. Mira was staring out of the window, seemingly in thoughts. But Walter looked at him. Penwood seemed to see something that made him shrink deeper into his seat.

"Please tell them to keep their opinion to themselves," Caitlyn said friendly. She nudged Walter, until he too looked out of the darkened window. Caitlyn wondered if the choice of the car had been on purpose. Would be a nice sign.

"Of course. I apologize on their behalf." The rest of the drive passed in silence. The car entered inner London. Somehow they managed to get to Buckingham Palace in only a few minutes. They drove through the open gate, through masses of tourists wondering who was in that car. It stopped in front of the main door. They climbed out and Caitlyn tried to smooth her clothes. Now she had forgotten to clean her hands after all. Penwood walked her up to the doors, Mira and Walter followed. Caitlyn took a deep breath.

The door opened. Henry Vansten, the private butler of the royal family, greeted them. He gave a short nod at his colleague. "Sir Penwood, the Round Table is awaiting you in the south wing." Penwood nodded. "Thank you. Goodbye, Lady Caitlyn." _Say what. I always thought I was the head of the bloody convention of twelve._

"Goodbye." Henry led them along the endless corridors. As always, Caitlyn was overwhelmed by the abundance, the shimmering. She liked to have things in order, but here it was just too much to even see at once, let alone gather. They stopped in front of white French doors.

"Her Majesty has requested Lady Hellsing to enter alone," Henry told them. Mira frowned and looked around.

"It's okay," Caitlyn said. Hopefully they wouldn't cause any trouble this time. "You two stay out here. Thank you."

She took a deep breath, before Henry opened the doors. It was a private meeting room. The glass doors to the terrace were wide open and the afternoon sun reflected off white and gold. The queen sat on one of the divans, her back turned towards the light, her face in shadows. Caitlyn scanned the room only briefly, despite seeing so many interesting things. "Your Majesty," she said when the doors had slammed shut behind her. She actually had thought of a curtsy, but since she was not wearing a skirt that didn't make sense. "Excuse my attire."

The queen smiled. "Ah no, my dear. I see you have been working. Don't worry. At my age, you become tired of formality taking your limited time. Sit down." Caitlyn did so on the opposite divan. "I'm sorry for the short notice."

"No need to apologize, Your Majesty. What can I do for you?"

"You met with the representative of the Iscariot organization two days ago."

_Oh yes._ "Yes, Your Majesty. Have you been handed my report?"

"Sir Irons took care of it. But I wanted to talk to you personally. Iscariot has been one of our worst enemies for centuries. And now this other old enemy reappearing. It is terrible."

"Indeed it is." _Not as terrible as for my men. My dead men. The royals rather sit in their chambers and plan who to sacrifice. ...Me included._

"My interest is of different nature though. We need to make plans to prepare for an attack of both this Millennium and the Vatican. You are the only one who can answer me: Can we fend off an attack of both?" _With Mira and Walter at full power? Easily. Which probably means a lot of people dying that have nothing to do with it. Except... Anderson. He could beat them. Not both, but one._

"I don't think this is necessary. Bishop Maxwell proposed a cooperation of our organizations. I think this is the right way." The queen took a sip of her tea. She was waiting. This was not just a meeting. It was a test, probably initiated by the Round Table. "Of course, we cannot trust them and need to be careful. There's a chance they will attack us once Millennium is done for. But if they fight alongside us, they will be weakened as well, meaning they will think twice before attacking after such a heavy fight."

"Sir Irons told me you had trouble putting up with an agent of Iscariot in Badrick. Paladin Alexander Anderson. The name is famous even here. Sir Irons also mentioned the Iscariot is on the height of their power right now. You will get a report, but according to Sir Walsh there seem to be quite a lot so-called "talents" in their ranks right now that might pose a threat in the future. Did you include this case?" _What talents? Who except for Anderson?_ Caitlyn told herself to stop freaking out. Of course the paladins were expertly trained. Otherwise they would have been eradicated long ago. "Yes, Your Majesty. Hellsing is ready to face this threat unconditionally."

The queen nodded. Who was she waiting for?, Caitlyn wondered. The queen took another sip of her tea. So did Caitlyn, trying to hide a smile. The queen approved. _Take that, Irons!_

"That is good to hear. Now then, Sir Walsh tells me it would be useful to have as much intriguing information as possible about them."

"Yes, Your Majesty." _Sir Irons says this, Sir Walsh says that. She gave up the leadership of this country a long time ago. Now people like Irons and Walsh hold the reigns._ "Would it not cause an uproar to merely disclose the existence of the Iscariot organization to the public?"

The queen chuckled. "Oh yes. But that is not the point." _And here the mysterious third man steps in._ Caitlyn almost burst out laughing in surprise when the door actually opened. The man was tall and lean, but a good deal over eighty. The gray hair and beard were neatly trimmed. He had trained a lot throughout his life, age taking away the possibilities in the end. Also, he leaned on crutches. The left ankle was in a cast. The accident couldn't have been long ago.

He had a broad face and mean gray eyes. So that was the informant? Vatican, Caitlyn decided. Everything else wouldn't make sense.

"Lady Hellsing. Queen." The man sat down with a heavy _thud_. Caitlyn raised an eyebrow at this rudeness, but the queen ignored it. The man had a slight accent. Dutch, maybe?

"Who are you?", Caitlyn asked skeptically. He wore a black suit without any obvious signs who he represented except for himself.

"That doesn't matter. All you need to know is that it is in my interest to... yes, let's be open, destroy the current structures of Iscariot." He had been in Church service for years, maybe his whole life. Not an average priest either. He was used to giving orders. Judging from the way he looked at her, he was also used to gathering information at any time. He obviously didn't like protestants. And he was the type of man to hold grudges for a long time. "Starting with their leader, Enrico Maxwell." Caitlyn nodded, trying to look neutral. Enrico seemed to have quite a bunch of enemies himself. They were so similar, it was eerie.

Was there a similar meeting taking place in the Vatican right now? Maybe they had a traitor in their own ranks?

"Maxwell is a danger to all of us. He is a madman without a conscience. A psychopath, in other words." _That's not true,_ Caitlyn thought. _He's not a psychopath. And he's got a conscience. It's called Lisa._ Still, she didn't say anything. Suddenly a song she had found just a few weeks ago started playing in her head. It was already a few years old.

_I'm only a man with a candle to guide me,_  
_I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me._

"The Pope doesn't want to or cannot see this. But Maxwell is unscrupulous and if we want to prevent a massacre, we have to fell him soon."

_If I told you what I was, Would you turn your back on me?_  
_Even if I seem dangerous, Would you be scared?_

Caitlyn tried to ignore the song in her head. What had Enrico done to this guy to make him that angry? _Jumping the ranks for example?_ She thought of the article about the consecration. Seeing such a young man in the same or only slightly lower position while this bloke here was crumbling away, not coming further despite his work? There were a billion people able to relate to that. But he should be careful.

_Envy breeds unkind division: There comes the ruin, there begins confusion._

"Excuse me, but I didn't have the impression-" The man cut her off harshly.  
"Since Maxwell is the leader of Iscariot, they have become more powerful than they have been since the days of the Spanish Inquisition. Also, a lot of younger agents rose to the top ranks. Mostly" Caitlyn could hear his distaste. "Women." _Oh great, another chauvinistic asshat. And that in the days of feminism._ "You're too young to judge that. Enrico Maxwell is a monster."

_And it keeps getting stronger._

"It would be in our best interest to combine all information we have."

"Like what?", Caitlyn asked.

"With a change of leadership Iscariot will be in confusion for a while." _He really is hell-bent on taking down Enrico. Does he even try to cover it up?_ "Any... say, objectionable information. Like about the relationship with his step-sister."

"Step-sister?", Caitlyn asked. How good was he at reading people? He probably thought he was good. He didn't seem to be suspicious. Chauvinism at work.

"You met her. The brown-haired girl accompanying him in the Imperial War Museum."

_Welcome to 1984. Big Brother Vatican is watching you._

Caitlyn raised her eyebrows. "That was his sister?" The man nodded, satisfied he had been right about Caitlyn not being able to judge others. "They are not blood-related. But alone the fact that they are sharing their flat... is quite intriguing." _That's kinda cute. Unusual, but cute._

"I see. Your Majesty?"

The queen had said nothing the whole time. Now she nodded. "This cooperation will prove to be useful. Please forward all information you have to this address." The man handed her a note. Just some anonymous e-mail-address.

Caitlyn had never followed the series with enthusiasm, but even she got the joke.

"Of course." _Dream on._

The old man stood up slowly, trying not to put weight on his injured foot. Normally Caitlyn would have offered to help, but after he had been so unfriendly? It would just have gotten her another figurative slap. "I have to go now," the man said. "It was a pleasure to meet you." _How does he even keep a straight face saying that?_ The man limped out of the room and closed the doors. The queen was silent for a few seconds until he had for sure left the hearing range.

"What do you think, Lady Hellsing?"  
"Do we know it's not a trick by the Iscariots to double-cross us?"

"Let's assume it's not."

"Well, he's dangerous and we can't trust him. But I suppose it would be logical to play off Iscariot against him and whoever he supports. The problem is, he knows that. Who was that, anyway? And why does he want Section XIII down that badly?"

"Indeed, indeed." The queen sighed. She looked ancient, all of a sudden, from what Caitlyn could see. The afternoon sun shone in her eyes and blinded her most of the time. It was setting. The air had grown colder. "We could tolerate Iscariot for so long because there was a mutual balance of power for years. But now they attacked us in Badrick." _Well, they did make up for it._ Caitlyn didn't say anything. "This won't be the last time. We need to weaken them. Let's assume the fair Sir you just met will help us. Then we can target Millennium."

Caitlyn felt her hands clench. This was unheard of, but on the other hand the queen was not issuing direct orders yet, right? The Round Table was just waiting for her to slip. Maybe that Dutch guy was sent by them? _Caitlyn Morris, you're becoming paranoid._

"Your Majesty, I beg to differ. If Millennium is as powerful as we assume, we need any help we can get to keep the... to minimize the damage. They will need time to regather their strength and then we will be able to..." Did she really just want to say _turn them to dust_? She was starting to think like them. "...defeat them without too many losses."

The queen finished her tea and chuckled. "Very well, Lady Hellsing. You seem to have a plan. I will withdraw now. At my age, long days are a nuisance." The queen stood up. Caitlyn hastily did so as well, wondering if she should help her. Henry was nowhere to be seen.

The queen seemed to wait that Caitlyn left. "Goodbye, Your Majesty. ...Uh... Have a nice day?"

"Yes, my dear. Thank you." Caitlyn hesitated again, but then went to the doors she had entered through. "Caitlyn?"

She stopped and turned around. God, she was trembling. When had that started? "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Keep an eye on Maxwell. And be careful. Or all we love will fall to dust. "

* * *

I hope you liked it :)

The title song is "Fall of the peacemakers" by Molly Hatchett.

The song Caitlyn is referencing is "Monster" by Imagine Dragons.


	13. Dust in the Wind

So many visitors and hits o_o Never thought my story would get that much attention.

Thanks to Wolfstar04 for maybe the most amusing (but also appreciated) review I ever got.

As always, I hope you enjoy. I'm always open for reviews and constructive criticism ;)

* * *

**Chapter 12: Dust in the wind**

__Edinburgh, Scotland, September 15____th____, 2016__

Anderson hadn't said a word the whole day. It was if the world around him just didn't exist. The last thing he had said to them was if they would come to Kenzy's funeral. So here they were.

It was cold up here, and the wind rushed over them. Lisa moved a little closer to her brother, who laid an arm around her. Despite the coats, he too was shivering. The wind just seemed to go through the fabric. On the positive side, his icy hands numbed the pain. The wound refused to heal properly which could be as well a personal offense. His mother, Laura, a doctor herself, had claimed this to be normal, but he had his doubts.

The ceremony was long over and the few guests – the majority elderly people from the home Kenzy had lived in – were long gone. The grave was closed up and covered in wreaths decorated with violet and gold. The unofficial colors of Iscariot.

_Paladin_

_Kenzy Greer_

_12\. 9. 1902 – 12. 9. 2016_

_Returned to the Lord's bosom_

It had been Enrico's idea to add the word "paladin". It was better than just "sister". Kenzy had been more than just a nun. She was a hero. Her burning blue eyes were still very fresh in his mind. It had been only three days after all. But he was fairly sure that image would never fade, no matter how far time took them. He had barely known her... but Anderson seemed happy about it.

Dying on your birthday. Nice present. The sarcasm didn't really help. Seeing his teacher devastated like that... it was scary. But Kenzy had been happy to die. She deserved to rest in peace.

They all started when Anderson eventually stood up. Heinkel, Yumiko and Lisa had never met Kenzy personally. Enrico wasn't sure if they knew themselves why they had come all the way to Scotland, while Renaldo, who had known Kenzy as a teacher and friend, had stayed in Rome. But Enrico knew. Anderson had always been there for them. Time to return the favor.

The giant paladin stood in front of the grave and looked at it for a while. Then he turned around abruptly, almost knocking Heinkel and Yumie over. "Ah'll tak ae walk. Alone." He was almost out of hearing range when he stopped again and said quietly: "Thank ye, kids."

They waited in silence until he was gone. The four left exchanged uncomfortable glances. Enrico was the one who broke the silence: "Let's get back inside. It's freezing." The three women gladly obliged. They would stay the night in the home for elderly nuns and clerics where Kenzy had lived and then return to Italy. This Millennium thing was not over, not even at its peak.

They entered the home and were greeted by warmth and the smell of tomato soup. They passed a few of the funeral goers but neither of them greeted. Kenzy obviously had not had many friends. She had literally been the last of her generation and the rumors of Iscariot's work always created a bit of uneasiness among outsiders. Aside of that, the four were probably the youngest people in the vicinity of three miles. Even the owners of the home were at least in their fifties, as were the nurses.

They sat down in a kind of small living room where they were more or less alone. Enrico was glad he could take off the gray coat that had turned out to be no great help in this weather. The purple scarf (Violetto Iscariot, Laura Maxwell had called it when she gave it to him one Christmas) on the other hand had kept him a good deal warmer. Wait... When had that been? The last Christmas they had spent in Richmond. The year their mother had discovered knitting and was doing barely anything else in her free time. Had it already been three years?

Lisa seemed to read his thoughts, like so often. "You think we can go home? After this... situation is over?" The dull grayness of the day had seeped into all of them. Lisa sounded like a scared child.

"Si, certo." What were the next steps? The Holy Father was preparing, the other sections would be on the move soon, so Enrico had nothing to do with it for now. But the inflow of information was so slim, that was what they needed to change. The reports were good, but they were seventy years old. Hellsing would probably send their own agents in. But he couldn't rely on them just as he couldn't rely on Section VIII to pass him all information. Cornelius was not to be trusted, even though Enrico didn't think he would work with Millennium. If Cornelius worked at all for now. The news of him falling down a staircase and breaking his ankle had not failed to cheer Enrico up. Of course he immediately sent his colleague a greeting and a "Get well soon". The mere thought of the old bishop's reaction was enough to bring him through this dreary day. The question was, who would he send?

Outside, it had begun to rain. Anderson would be soaked, even if he was just five minutes away.

Enrico still hadn't gotten a look into the files Kenzy had given him. Left him. After calling Renaldo and returning the car to Section V he had gone home, put the briefcase on a chair, made himself a hot chocolate and worked on the sword. After that didn't work out he cleaned up the whole apartment until Lisa came home. The only thing left untouched was her chaotic room. Contrary to the stereotype, he was the orderly one of them. He hadn't really been in the mood for chick flick talk but she had bugged him until he surrendered and told her pretty much anything. Except the sword. He left that out, even though she was not happy about it. So much for having no time for talking. But he had to admit, it felt good having someone else on board.

"Enrico?"

He snapped out of his thoughts. That seemed to happen often these days. "What?", he asked, his thoughts still on the matter of these reports about... whatever was necessary to create a regenerator.

Yumie was the only one wearing "official" clothes. Enrico had done with a dark blue shirt (not a good idea) with the clerical collar, Lisa and Heinkel were in civilian clothing.

"It's about Victoria. I want to take her on a hunt," Heinkel said.

Now she had his full attention. Yumiko's and Lisa's too. "Why that?"

"She's been bugging me with it for literally years. I just have a feeling it's about time. Before she gets any clever ideas."

"How do you want to explain that to Anderson?", Yumiko asked. She didn't agree with Heinkel on the necessity of training the girl, but as a good friend, she supported her anyway and for that the blond paladin was thankful. Before she could say more, the director's phone rang.

"Sorry. Just a moment." He took the call and stood up to walk around the room while listening to the caller. A habit most people seemed to share, except for Heinkel herself.

"Yes... I see. ...Si... Grazie. Ciao." He ended the call and returned to his friends.

"We've got a hit on possible allies of Millennium. It's in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Small club downtown, two or three vampires." He checked his phone, where he had already gotten an email with the data. "Called..." He had to smile. "Nightcrawler."

"Nice one," Heinkel remarked, grinning. "Vicky and I can take them."

"How do you want to explain this to Anderson?", Yumiko repeated. She wasn't happy at all. They would just end up killing people again. She would prefer to stay home if Heinkel had another partner this time. In the end they were doing the right thing. She just didn't want to hurt anyone in the process.

"Not if Anderson is on a mission himself," Enrico said.

Heinkel wasn't sure if she should be happy or angered that it was that easy. On the one hand she believed in what she said – Victoria was a time bomb. Heinkel could not deny the girl was the best student she had ever seen. Vicky was more than ready for her first mission. But Heinkel still hesitated to actually endanger her. But she couldn't rationally explain it and Anderson needed the distraction anyway. It was hard to imagine what it would be like to lose her teacher. She had lost her parents, yes, but she had been a small child back then.

"We need an agent in South America anyway," Enrico said. They were interrupted by a nun in her seventies and with a remarkably loud voice announcing that dinner was ready. The funeral had taken place in the afternoon and Anderson had sat there for what not just felt like a long time.

After an hour of incredibly annoying chatter old people were so fond of, horrible tomato soup (more like tomato acid) and the evening prayer, they all decided for themselves to call it a day. The girls shared a room near the garden, while Enrico and Anderson shared another one on the other side of the wing. Enrico was glad to leave the chatty old people behind. He wasn't in the mood for either smalltalk or suspicious glances.

The rain outside had turned into a thunderstorm. Anderson was still out there somewhere. Not that Enrico was worried about his safety that much. He was a regenerator. Which brought him to the subject. He took the briefcase and sat on the windowsill. Thunder crashed and lightning pierced the sky. For a few seconds, Enrico just listened to the sound of nature's wrath. He loved thunderstorms. The only thing he was missing for a relaxing evening was his cat in his lap, a good book and a hot chocolate. Alex (the cat, not the paladin) was astoundingly calm during storms like this. The perfect companion. He was in the care of Josephine Duvelle now, a retired paladin and former student of Anderson, who worked at the orphanage.

Enrico pulled himself away from the daydream and opened the briefcase. It was filled to the top with old reports. This would prove to be a long evening.

He started with the oldest ones. During the first minutes, it was difficult to read the uneven typing and scribbled remarks of the scientists. The first folder was about the test results on animals. Despite not being really gruesome, Enrico couldn't help a feeling of unease and dread. Then he got to the experiments done on a certain Paladin Kenzy Greer, 29 years old.

Kenzy had volunteered for the experiments, despite knowing of the pain it included and the chance she might not survive. She had. But maybe... maybe she shouldn't have.

Enrico only looked over the reports roughly, but what he read was more than enough to evoke chilling images he could have done without.

_...subject stable, but in pain. Had to fix her to the bed to inject more of the serum._

_...claims to have nightmares..._

_...screaming, scientist can barely work..._

_...almost lost the subject... _

_We broke the left arm today. Healing process is faster than average, but not groundbreaking. Need to reform the serum structure._

There was a transcript of an "interview" with Kenzy. Every movement and reaction was meticulously described.

_Subject Kenzy Greer is fixed to the operating table. She is unconscious. Leading scientist is_

The name was blackened out for some reason. Only the initials C.R. remained in front of every question or statement he made.

_CR: Paladin Greer? Can you hear me?_

_KG: [moans, opens her eyes] Y-Yes. Who are you? [Subject tries to sit up and look around]_

_CR: My name is - How do you feel?_

_KG: What do I look like? [Subject seems to recognize the location. Starts to cry.] Oh God, no... Please, not again. Not anymore._

_CR: We will inject you a new form of serum that should make you less sensible to intense pain. You are doing great._

_KG: [still crying] My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?_

_CR: [subject is getting hysterical; lead sc. trying to calm her for the continuation of work] For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. The Lord is with you, Kenzy. _

_KG: Please make it stop, no more pain, I beg you._

_[Lead sc. continues to murmur reassuringly, until subject KG stops struggling. He wipes away her tears with a handkerchief. Injects new serum. Slight violet glow, as reported before. _

_Subjects cramps and screams. . Wants to make test cut. Subject struggles and heaves; knife accidentally punctuates the eye.]_

"Are you okay?"

Enrico screamed and jumped off the windowsill, the files fluttering all over the floor. Lisa stumbled back, wide-eyed, her hand still hovering in mid-air.

After a moment of shocked silence he could breath again. "Oh... Just you. You... you startled me." He laughed uncomfortably and hastily began gathering the papers again. He could only hope nobody had heard his childish and undignified reaction in the noise the thunderstorm made.

"What are you doing?" After a moment's hesitation, Lisa helped him. So much for the wonderful order the papers had been in.

"Reading the reports Kenzy gave me."

"Are they that scary?" Enrico cast her a short glance that answered her question more than she would have liked. "What... what did they do?"

Luckily, he had only strewn the papers about Kenzy everywhere. He found the last page of the report, complete with a recap of the experiment. It had been as successful as possible. Kenzy was alive and well again. Her wounds closed instantly, though she was still having cramps from time to time and she seemed unable to remember most of the procedure. The date was the 17th of March, 1933.

"Oh- Oh my God." Lisa's voice was shaking. She had randomly read one of the papers she had picked up. It happened to be a description of the experiments checking the pain levels and regeneration abilities. She got up and almost slammed the papers on the windowsill. "That's- That's not the work of God," she whispered. "That's just sadistic and inhuman." Enrico had nothing to say to that. Maybe she was right. But sometimes the end justified the means.

"Are you going to read the rest of it?", Lisa asked. She was staring out of the window. The storm was becoming weaker by now. Enrico joined her and almost hoped for Alexander to return, so he had an excuse for not reading more of this gruesomeness. But of course this was childish. End and means. It was that simple.

_There's yin problem wi' all o' them. They're reckless. They'll dae anything if they think it's necessary. Ye hae tae protect them fae themselves._ Kenzy had been old and her mind maybe not as trustworthy as she thought. Especially not after experiencing something like this.

_Just get this over with_, Enrico thought. He sat on the bed this time, Lisa at his side. The reports on Anderson they could understand in the midst of medical and biochemical jargon were far fewer but equally horrible. There was a different method that worked quicker, but only few were able to survive the pain that came with it. The results showed better healing than expected. That was thanks to Anderson's special constitution. Also, he didn't have a mental breakdown like Kenzy.

Enrico had only wanted to leaf through the reports. At that time of day he was in no shape to take in more of this lunacy. But the story unfolding, his teacher's story, his suffering in the name of God, had its own spell, repulsive as it was.

Eventually, he came across the photo of something that looked like a really ancient nail.

"The nail of Helena?", Lisa whispered, making Enrico jump. He had thought she had fallen asleep leaning on him. It wouldn't have been the first time.

The nail of Helena. A nail from Jesus' cross. This was almost too hard to believe. The report on it said they measured great power. It didn't get more specific than that, like how they measured it or what kind of power. The rest was a kind of anthology of legends, all somewhat different. They agreed on one thing though – if somebody could handle this nail, he would become more than human.

This had been enough weirdness for one evening, even by the standards of an Iscariot. Enrico wanted to put the papers back in the briefcase, when a note fluttered to the ground. It was less than half a page in a neat, but seemingly pained handwriting. On the sheet were only a few sentences. Kenzy's hands had been twisted by age. Writing this must have been agonizing.

_Man is not made to be more._

_The end doesn't always justify the means._

_A monster of God is still a monster._

_Alex._

Enrico stared at the last word. This one little phrase, just four letters, seemed to contain everything Kenzy had held dear in her life, every last emotion. He hadn't known her, but now it seemed-

The door was opened quietly, but in the calm after the thunderstorm it sounded like a pistol shot. Anderson was soaked to the bone. "Ye twae are still up?"

Lisa got up and Enrico hastily stuffed the papers into the briefcase again. "We wanted to wait for you."

"Thas nice o' ye," Anderson replied. He took off the long coat and shoes so he wouldn't make everything dirty. Or more dirty. Enrico passed him his bag and the paladin disappeared into the bathroom. Until he was finished, Lisa had returned to the room the three girls shared for this night. Heinkel and Yumie were already sleeping, their weapons next to them, in direct reach. After a while in this job, some things never left you. Enrico was lying on the bed, the documents stored away safely. It was the middle of the night, but he was wide awake. The reports had triggered pictures his overactive fantasy refused to let go. This would prove to be a long night.

Anderson laid down and shut off the lights. "Thanks fae waiting."  
"No problem. You're going to be alright?" Should he tell him the next mission would go to Brazil soon? No. Not now.

"O' course." Anderson wanted to believe it himself. But even Enrico could hear he was not. "Whit were ye twae doing?"

Enrico felt like a schoolboy caught in the middle of a prank. But in the darkness, his teacher would not see any guilty reaction. What guilt, for that matter? As the chief, he had every right to do anything he wanted. "Oh, just a few files that need to be checked. Old stuff."

"Ah." After that, there was nothing. Enrico turned around and wondered if Lisa could sleep. She had always been a bit prone to lying awake after a nightmare. Her company would be a great relief. He certainly wouldn't be able to sleep for quite a while.

Just seconds later, he had drifted into darkness.

* * *

_London, September 21st, 2016_

The city was burning. It stank of blood, and smoke, and death. Corpses were strewn everywhere, walking corpses, a flood of them. Over them, the enormous zeppelins threatened. Explosions thundered, deafened her. Shadowy creatures crawled and scurried on the ground. In the midst: The Iscariots. They had been severely decimated, but at least she could see Heinkel and Yumie among them. Her friends were safe for now. They were too talented to just... die. Die like all the others. Lisa was standing high over the crumbling London, on the edge of a now emptied building. Her fear of heights – normally weak, but always there – was forgotten.

"Enrico?" She waited for his reassuring voice, his presence beside her, but she was alone. The hot, stinking wind made her coat flutter. "Brother!"

Then she remembered. Enrico was dead. Fallen off his high horse like Lucifer himself. It had taken only one bayonet to shatter his safety. Then she had been taken away. Just like he wanted it to happen. Rather him than her, he had said. And some part of her hated him for that. They were destined to stay together. Always and forever. Until the end.

Lisa felt tears burning in her eyes and wiped them away. She would have the time to cry when this was over. When they had fulfilled their purpose. When Enrico's dream was reality.

Catholic Britannia.

And for that, Anderson would defeat the godless creature that called itself Vladimira.

Lisa couldn't hear the words, didn't care to. But she saw the nail he held. The shock on the vampire's face. Words drifted to her. "A divine force of nature..."

Lisa saw light reflect in the nail of Helena. Was this the right thing? The battle had stopped. Everybody was watching Anderson and the vampire woman. The Iscariots, what might be left of the Last Battalion. Caitlyn. The Major. The maniac who was responsible for all of this. The monster that had pushed her brother over the edge. So there had been no choice but to take his life.

"...then Ah'll be happy tae abandon ma humanity." Anderson burrowed the nail in his heart. He fell to his knees. And the most awful thing Lisa had ever seen happened.

"Lisa! LISA!" Wasn't that Enrico's voice? Where? There was a shrill screeching in the background, like a terrified child. She was having hallucinations. Her brother was gone for good, along with all the crusaders, much of Iscariot, the damned vampires of Millennium and thousands of innocents.

Anderson and Vladimira were fighting. But no matter how large the damage, the thorns recreated the paladin's body. Until... until it was too much. Until the vampire ripped his heart out, the pulsing heart with the nail still in it. And squashed it like an insect.

Pain shot through her cheek. The screeching stopped. Lisa opened her eyes and saw a terrified-looking Enrico.

"What?", she managed. The room was sparse, with a wardrobe and three beds, one of them just a folding bed. They had drawn straws to decide who would get the cot. Heinkel had gotten the shortest straw, but didn't seem to mind. The Chaos Girls were up now, as was probably everyone in the whole house. With the difference that the paladins had their weapons drawn and were ready for a heavy fight.

"Are you alright?", her brother asked. Anderson was standing in the door, like a silent guardian. A guardian in giant striped pajamas, but a guardian nevertheless. The man she had just seen become a monster and then die horribly.

Just now Lisa noticed the tears on her face. She was drenched in sweat and shivering like in a fever. "A nightmare," she croaked. Her brother's worried expression softened. He sat down beside her on the bed and Lisa burrowed her face in his crumpled shirt. Just a nightmare. His arms encircled her and she finally grew calmer. But she wouldn't be able to sleep, that much was sure. At home she would just have cuddled up to her brother and after a while gone back to sleep knowing she was fine, but here this was not possible. She wiped her face. "Sorry for waking you." God, this was so embarrassing. She was an Iscariot for God's sake!

The clock said five in the morning. Great. Heinkel yawned and got up, putting on a very stylish jacket with the Chesire Cat's grin all over it. "Well now it's too late anyway. We can sleep on the plane."

"Too late for you," Yumie complained. She got back into bed and pointedly turned her back to them. Heinkel grinned, ignoring Lisa's burning face completely. "Let's go. The princess needs her beauty sleep." For that, she got a pillow in the face.

They were on the way to the small room they had already spent most of the time before. Anderson had decided, after making sure everybody was alright, to go back to bed. The corridors were empty. Either the residents had a good sleep or didn't want to be bothered.

Lisa held Enrico's hand all the time. She was back in reality now – at least she hoped so – but the feeling of loneliness was just so fresh in her mind. Had it just been a dream? Or a bit more? Enrico knew she was having these nightmare, had had them all her life. When her parents died in a car crash when she was eight it had gotten worse and worse. Post-traumatic stress disorder, the psychologist called it. Lisa never told them she had had the dream before the car crash. After a while she wasn't even sure anymore. The only thing she accomplished over time was not screaming every time she woke up. Until she was adopted by the Maxwells. Then Enrico was there to protect her. It was a miracle. Two children, complete strangers, growing so close in barely weeks.

Lisa flinched – though not the only one – when somebody stepped in their path. The woman's long hair was still astoundingly dark and full for her age. She had a black cat in her arms that purred sleepily. "Ye youngsters are up early," the woman said, trying to minimize the Scottish accent. Her bright green eyes wandered over the little group, noticed the young bishop and his agent – that's what the others called them – holding hands and saw the tired, pale face of the young dark-haired girl. "Haed ae nightmare, darling?"

Lisa hesitated. "Yes."

"Explains ae lot. Jay here was restless the whole night. She can feel such things." The woman nodded at the cat, that now opened her eyes, yawned and jumped to the floor. Jay stretched and then proceeded to rub her head on Lisa's leg, purring loudly. After a few moments, a second cat looking pretty much the same but smaller, joined in.

"Take care before we all get smothered by cats," Enrico joked. The old woman laughed.

"May and Jay are normally not that open to strangers." She watched the two with so much love that Lisa automatically had to think of the "crazy cat lady" stereotype. Maybe it was true after all that women without children had to compensate somehow, though she had never felt that urge herself. Well, they _did_ have a cat. "I think we didn't meet before," the old nun said. "Sister Cynthia. Ye're fae Iscariot, right?"

Lisa shot a glance at Enrico, who nodded. Sister Cynthia nodded as well, as if that was crystal clear. "The big one, that's Kenzy's Alex, right? She was always very proud of him." Kenzy's Alex. That sounded genuinely strange. Lisa wondered what the old paladin had been like.

"It's only sad fae thon left behind," Sister Cynthia said suddenly. "Kenzy is in the Lord's hands now and protecting those she loves." Are you sure? Lisa couldn't forget what every Iscariot knew on some level: They were damned to hell. They were killing, though in the name of the Lord. But killing was killing. Some sins you could never atone for. And Cynthia seemed to know that too. She was just too optimistic to think of it.

"Ah know wha' helps after ae nightmare, dear," she said warmly. "Ah'll make ye ae cup o' hot milk and honey and then ye might sleep ae bit more. Yer brother too." Now Lisa had a good idea how Enrico must have felt in the conversation with Caitlyn Hellsing. The old nun just smirked at them and went in the direction of the kitchen, the cats following her after a moment's hesitation.

Lisa blinked. Heinkel had to be pissed being ignored like that. But when she turned around, the corridor behind them was empty. "Where is Heinkel?"

Enrico seemed confused. "Showering. She told us, remember?"

"Oh." She ignored his smile and some comment she didn't want to hear, pulling him to the kitchen, where Cynthia was already preparing the milk. "I didn't wake you, right?", Lisa asked, rather embarrassed.

"Ah, nae. Ah was already awake. Sister Alison might complain, but these days she's complaining aboot everything. Naebody haes tae be embarrassed aboot ae nightmare ye cannae control."

Lisa sighed. Some part of her wanted to ask how the nun had guessed them to be siblings, but then again she didn't really care. It was a lot better than all those stupid rumors going around.

"Ah've been wi' Section VIII fae years. Still Cornelius at work?" Lisa leaned against her brother and let the conversation drift past her without listening. There was a soft vibration every time Enrico spoke. Now, in the figurative light of day, her dream seemed ridiculous. Had she actually believed for a few moments to be able to see the future? God sending her signs? Nonsense. She shouldn't have read those horrible reports late at night, simple as that.

She was startled out of her half-sleep when Enrico gently nudged her. Cynthia carried two steaming cups and brought them into the "lounge". Lisa hadn't seen the sign next to the door before and the room was a bit too small for a lounge, but fair enough. They sat down on the sofa, exactly where they had sat hours before after the funeral.

"Ye hae surely ae wee bit tae talk aboot."

"Thank you," Enrico replied. Then Cynthia left. Lisa laid down, her head in her brother's lap. The drink was too hot anyway. "Want to tell me what you dreamed?", he asked.

She stared past him at the ceiling. This was ridiculous. Nothing more. "Not now. I... I was scared. And people died." Two furry weights, one small, the other one slightly bigger, landed on her and laid down. Her body seemed to vibrate with the deep purring. She was exhausted.

All she could hope for was a dreamless sleep. And that her nightmare would never come true.

* * *

_Hellsing mansion, London, September14th, 2016_

"Get your hands off me, idiot!"

"Mais non, ma chérie, we're all friends here. Okay guys, let's sing the eskimo-song!"

Seras groaned. Night had fallen quite a while ago and the lamps only provided the least of light. That was the point of this training. They were practicing constantly, with great results, some better than the old troop. Unfortunately, Pip Bernadotte was also a lot more uncontrollable and childish, as his fiancee knew quite well. Seras' face lit up considerably when she saw Caitlyn approaching the shooting stand. "Lady Hellsing! Could you please tell them to stop singing this filthy song? They don't seem to listen to me."

Caitlyn didn't need to hear more than one line to understand Seras. But that was probably how it was among so many men, right? "Alright guys, stop it, okay?" She had to yell to be heard over the gunfire. The men laughed, but stopped singing.

_Men of few words are the best men._ Caitlyn had to disagree. Men of few words were a sad bunch. ...Was it such a good idea to have a personal bond to them?

"Do you want to give it a try, Lady Hellsing?", Pip Bernadotte asked. Caitlyn hesitated. She hated guns. It was not even that she was incredibly untalented with technical things. She just had no urge to try. She hated the weight, and the noise and pretty much everything about it. But with Millennium coming up she obviously had no other choice. Thanks to Mira she found at least a spot of fun in fencing, but that didn't make her awfully good.

"Why not?", she sighed. "But don't you dare laugh at me! I haven't done this in an eternity." In fact, she had never wielded a gun. She had refused to, which in retrospect might have led to the first dissonance with the rest of the Round Table. Aside from the fact that they had not wanted her to get the post in the first place. Not that she had been dead-on focused on becoming a leader of such a weird thing as Hellsing organization. She had been a confused, introverted, sixteen year old orphan. Now she was a slightly less confused, (pretending to be) confident, twenty-two year old woman with something like a family she could rely on. She defended herself as well as she could. Just out of principle. And because she had nowhere else to go to.

Pip handed her a small caliber gun. "Try that target." The plate with the shape of a man was about twenty meters away. It was almost lost in the gloom. Caitlyn fixed her eyes on the target and tried to look professional.

_Try to set the right foot a bit further in front of you. Aim, shoot and then hold the gun for a moment longer._

Aiming, shooting, holding. Caitlyn pushed her right foot forward, praying she was standing steadily, and pulled the trigger. The recoil was a lot weaker than she had expected and she directed the muzzle downward on accident. The bullet hit the pretend-man right between the legs.

Groaning and laughter among the men. "That's one way of taking somebody out," Seras commented, grinning. "He won't have any need for you eskimo song ever again." More laughter. Caitlyn lowered the gun and hoped nobody could see her burning face in the twilight.

"Not a bad shot." _For a beginner_, the voice finished the sentence in Caitlyn's head. The men froze. Mira was wearing that suit and the hat again which always looked like it should rather belong to a man. Caitlyn wasn't sure if she should be more worried about the vampire getting into her head or why she was worrying about questions of fashion in times like these.

"Did you get bored?"

"Somewhat. It's not that there's an awful lot to do."

"Well then you will be happy to hear that we are flying to Brazil tomorrow. That is, Walter and you are." Why was Mira smiling like that? "The Iscariots are sending someone in, but it would be stupid to rely on them." _Aside of that, Mira is bored like hell. And I have the Round Table on my ass._

"Are you sure that is a good idea?"

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, trying to look as much an authority as she should be. "Why is that?" The thought came to her the same instant. _Can he cross water?_ That had never been an issue as far as she knew. Walter had been a vampire for... what? Seventy-two years? Pretty much on the day. But what did she know how powerful he really was?

_Powerful enough. It's not that._

_\- Get. Out. Of. My. Head!_, Caitlyn almost snapped. _How about a normal, decent conversation?_  
"How about you take those guys instead?" She made a motion to the Wild Geese that didn't seem too comfortable around Mira. Not that Caitlyn had expected that. Mira liked scaring the hell out of people. Walter too, but at least he mostly kept to Caitlyn's orders, which included _not_ scaring the crap out of people if possible. Especially her.

Mira just smiled. "They'd only slow me down. ...But you two, maybe. At least I would have a bit of company then." She snapped against the brim of Pip Bernadotte's hat, making it fly away. Seras caught it, seeming a lot more pleased than her fiancee.

"Fine then," Caitlyn announced. "Everybody else is on liaison duty." She waited for complaints and got none. She gave Captain Bernadotte the gun. "Another time." When she was a bit better. It was late, but better she started training at all. God, how much she hated this. "And don't sing, okay?" Laughter and salutations bid her farewell when she walked back to the mansion, Mira at her side, away from the noise and the stink of gunpowder or whatever it was.

"So you'll take Seras and Pip?", Caitlyn eventually asked.

"Any objections, master?"

"Why not Walter? If you encounter hostile forces..."

Mira smiled. "Ask him yourself. I'm sure he would be more than happy to accompany me... to a country less sunny."

"Ah." The goddamn sun problem. Brazil was basically one of the sunniest countries she could think of. She could have thought about that before. "What about you?"

"Lady Caitlyn, I told you before. To me, sunlight is not some great enemy. I just hate it."

_That's what he always says too._ "Not as much as Walter, apparently."

She laughed. "He's young."

Caitlyn stared at her for a moment. Young. Of course. Sometimes she thought she would never learn anything from working with these two. Young, for God's sake.

It was more than time to go to bed.

* * *

"Caitlyn?" She yawned and buried her head into the pillow. Just a few more minutes. It was weekend. She had such a strange dream, it could be a book. Lady Dracula, Hellsing, Millennium, Iscariot, the fact that she had fallen in love first with a vampire and then with a bishop... What a joke. She was just sixteen. Just another orphan nobody really cared about and who didn't know what to do with her life. The only thing she had was an overactive fantasy, obviously.

"It's eight o'clock." Caitlyn shot up. Crap. Miss Evangeline would be so pissed if she didn't show up on time. Not to mention she would get no breakfast. What chores were due for today? She couldn't remember anything. Homework, then?

"Lady Caitlyn?" She screamed when she met red eyes in the twilight. Walter stared at her with wide eyes. "Uhm... Lady Caitlyn?", he repeated. She looked around. A big chamber with high windows, all closed off with curtains for now, a huge bed for her alone

(_There would be space for a nice guy... _

_...Wait. What the hell, Cait?!_)

... other furniture way too expensive for any normal person. Walter, looking impeccable like always, was standing next to the bed, just a fourteen year old boy with eerily glowing eyes. When she first slept in this house, he had woken her with breakfast in bed. At first, Caitlyn had liked the thought, but then it soon felt uncomfortable. She just wanted to be normal again. But this was her normal now. And to be honest she didn't know what to do with her life. She had finished school, but this was her job now. She didn't even know how normal people on their own lived.

"...Mira and the others are waiting, right?" She sighed and got out of bed.

"What do you want for breakfast, milady?"

Caitlyn still had to smile about this. This sounded like a servant in the Victorian ages. Or in Black Butler. That was a series she did enjoy, despite not being Shakespeare. Though she had her doubts Sebastian would be able to beat Walter. "Same as always. Thank you." He vanished. Caitlyn went to the bathroom and then changed her clothes to a blouse and jeans. Just when she was done with that she opened the curtains and tidied her clothes and hair and eventually the room, too. She always had the feeling somebody would chide her if she didn't.

After a quick breakfast she hurried to the "private meeting room" - the one she had met the Wild Geese in for the first time. Mira awaited her sitting on a black coffin – hers. That creepy thing Caitlyn didn't really want to be near. The vampire was wearing a business suit with a red shirt, the collar opened just enough to be a bit cheeky, her hair falling over her shoulders like black silk. Caitlyn felt a sting of envy.

"Nice outfit."

"Well, I can't go for a plane ride without fitting in. It would make me a walking billboard for our foes." Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. If the vampire could read her thoughts anyway, why bother? _Do you think you look like an ordinary person now?_

This time, of course, Mira didn't react. Caitlyn studied the smooth ebony surface of the coffin. It was framed with gold. A small golden cross was on the top half, with an inscription that literally looked like Greek. On the bottom there was another one, equally illegible. She didn't ask and obviously everybody had been clever enough to keep their mouths shut as well.

"Lady Vladimira? We need to make the coffin transport-ready." The man was called Joker by his friends. He nodded friendly at Caitlyn, but kept an eye on Mira.

_Lady Vladimira? Holy crap. She certainly knows how to get her groupies to do what she wants._

Mira stood up. "Of course." She gave them a charming smile.

"How are you planning to get that through customs?", Caitlyn asked, frowning. Not to speak of the firearms.

"There shan't be any," Walter said.

"Why not?"

"Because it's a smuggling vessel."

"It'z ze same smugglers we always use," Captain Bernadotte explained.

"As long as they are paid, they are reliable," Seras said, though not looking terribly happy. "God, I hate flying," she muttered.

"Zen you should choose a different job," her fiancee teased, ruffling her hair. Caitlyn looked from them to Mira and wondered what the vampire was thinking about. She had Walter now, right? The thought stung a lot less than Caitlyn had expected.

"Fine then," she announced with more vigor than she actually felt. "Mira, Seras, Pip, you are our agents in South America. Try to find out as much as possible about Millennium. Work with the Iscariot agents should you meet them, but be careful. We can't trust them, but we don't want a fight." Caitlyn had to think of the records done by the former Hellsings. She hadn't been sure what to feel when she encountered what seemed to be their motto: _Search and destroy_. She saw Mira's eyes light up when she caught that phrase.

This was not like her. But what choice was there? "Gather information... and if you encounter Millennium... destroy them. Try not to die." The last phrase was more directed at Pip and Seras. Laughter. Mira bowed, her eyes gleaming. "Yes, Master." Caitlyn watched the preparations for a while. What else was there to do except informing the rest of the Round Table? Or better the queen directly. She didn't trust Walsh or Irons. Maybe she should go through the reports of the Vatican again. After all, the gaps in the narrative would maybe, just maybe give her a few hints at what the Vatican kept secret.

_Everything we love will fall to dust._ Well, for a really bad case there was still Walter to defend them, which was probably good enough, even with Mira out of country. She turned around and walked in the direction of her office. The paintings on the wall stared at her, people she still didn't know much about. Her heritage was a puzzle, a closed door, she never had the guts to try.

"Who do you think are the traitors?", she asked.

Walter hesitated. "Milady?"

"Stop calling me that. You know I don't like it. Who has betrayed us to those monsters? At least some must have a good deal of influence."

"Well... some suspect Sir Penwood."

Caitlyn thought of the stocky, shy man with the nervous eyes. "He's not a traitor."

"You are in the minority with that opinion."

"He's got no personality for his kind of job. But he's not a traitor. But neither are Walsh or Irons. No Round Table member, as far as I see that." Maybe she was relying too much on what she thought she could read in the people. Was the Vatican struggling with the same problems? For sure. Like the mystery man Caitlyn had had the honor to meet. So not just traitors to Millennium, but to the counterpart organizations too. Welcome to the world of politics.

"What about our contact with the Vatican?"

"The archbishop of Canterbury?"

Caitlyn sighed. Who had thought up that system? "No, I mean Enrico Maxwell. Would be a lot easier to have direct contact." They could have exchanged phone numbers. Caitlyn had been too distracted to think of that, but he hadn't mentioned it either. Now she probably had to go through the Round Table or at least Iscariot's secretary (did they have one?).

"We were sent this." Walter handed her a letter. Caitlyn had to smile. Either he liked writing letters or his wounded hand didn't allow him much typing. In it, there was only a small sheet, scarcely more than a note. On it was an email-adress on the Vatican server, a phone number... and a smiley.

Caitlyn frowned. She would have to check, but... that was not the same handwriting like in the first letter. Maybe Lisa wrote it? Or someone completely different.

Maybe she should ask him who he had sent to Brazil. Definitely not Lisa. Maybe they could prevent another unasked for encounter. Right, she still hadn't talked to Mira about that. She had some doubts about that being very effective anyway.

_Search and destroy._ With enemies like that, she had no choice. People would die. There was no way around it. All she could do was keeping the innocents out of it.

But still she couldn't silence the voice inside of her asking: _Did I do the right thing?_


	14. Seek & Destroy

**Chapter 13: Seek &amp; Destroy**

_Rome, Iscariot-HQ, September 16th, 2016_

A rain of sparks. "Goddamn it!", Enrico cursed. He leaned back, sighing in frustration. His "little gadget", like he had called it when talking to Lisa, had not been a big problem. It was a question of programming. Now they only needed to wait for Millennium to make the first step. But this... this was over his head. He knew it only minutes after he had started working on it a few weeks ago, but of course he could not just give up. His pride wouldn't let him. Now that things were picking up speed that left him with exactly two options: Trying to solve this himself. He was not an engineer... or quantum physicist. With God's help and a lot of luck and chance... not really.

Or he hoped the blokes from Section IV would be able to do this and return the sword to him once they were done. Meaning not only a quite awkward return to Signor Panini but also the problem of losing all direct control.

Enrico sighed and rubbed his temples, despite not the slightest hints of a headache. His hand was a wholly different matter. This might be a reason why it wasn't healing.

_Since pride must have a fall._ Oh God, now he started thinking in Shakespeare quotes. The Hellsing woman had gotten to his head. Either time to work or at least to make a decision. As long as he didn't think of her.

He had no choice. Pride came before the fall, the saying went. Enrico would be damned if he would fall. He shook his head angrily, earning him a confused glance by Alex, the cat, and drank the last of his chocolate. What kind of thinking was that? Lisa's nightmare had only been a nightmare, nothing else. By now he seemed to be more worried about it than her. But for some reason he would feel better having the sword ready as soon as possible.

His phone gave a discreet little ringing. Probably Heinkel writing they had arrived in Minnesota. Anderson had gone to London to catch a flight to Rio de Janeiro the same day. Heinkel accompanied them back to fetch Victoria from the orphanage, before they headed for the US. The girl had been excited to the point of jumping on the spot, but had tried to behave herself. She was nice. One day, not too long, she would make a great paladin. The only question was how to tell Alexander. But that was luckily still in the future.

Yumiko helped the guys in the archive and Lisa was training. Speaking of training, he needed to do that as well. Maybe now was the best time. The shooting stand should be empty. He sighed and got up to put the sword and all that belonged to his failed attempts of being a genius into the bag Cristoforo had given him. He would pay the boy a call and think about what leverage he had. Rather for ensuring he got the sword back than that the work was done.

"Guess I don't have a choice," he said to Alex, the cat. "Silly to follow my sister's nightmare, huh?" Alex didn't have an opinion on that or he just didn't voice it. Instead, he got up, stretched and rubbed his head on Enrico's leg. The bishop bent down and stroked the soft beige fur.

He got his coat and the bag. On the door, he turned around without stopping. "Phone. Right," he mumbled.

The violet blinking told him he had a new message. He checked it on the way out. It was an unknown number, but the profile photo was more than obvious. It was a pretty photo, actually.

_Hi. Thanks for thinking of that. I forgot. Just a question, which agents did you sent to Brazil? I think neither of us wants a scene like in the museum._

After a moment's hesitation he answered: _Anderson is on his way, but there should be no problem._ Another moment where he wasn't sure if he should really do what he thought. Then again, why not? He grabbed the bag. Alex, the cat, decided he rather wanted to stay. His owner would check in this evening anyway and even if not, Lisa probably would.

Enrico sent the message before heading out of the HQ. Time for a bit of training before surrendering from his self-chosen challenge. Everybody had his talents. This wasn't his, obviously. Hopefully, nobody would see how much that bugged him.

A bit more than 1400 kilometers away, Caitlyn stared at her phone, unsure how to understand the second message Enrico Maxwell had sent her. And whatever it meant for everybody involved in this whole situation.

_How the hell did you get my phone number?_

_Hotel Rio, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, September 17th, 2016_

Seras entered the lobby, walking behind Lady Vladimira, a picture of grace and somewhat eerie beauty. She was exactly the right person for this environment. Marble everywhere, tropical plants, an air-conditioned room in the heat – this kind of mission could very well happen a bit more frequently. It was amusing how scared everybody was of Lady Vladimira. If you were friendly, she was as well, vampire or not. Walter too, though he was a bit easier to anger. Seras didn't regret talking her fiancee into taking this job.

Lady Vladimira walked up to the girl at the counter. She couldn't be much older than eighteen and had the red hair in fluffy pigtails. "I have a reservation for a suite," Lady Vladimira said.

The girl smiled professionally. She didn't seem to notice the slightly off appearance of the guest. Maybe she was used to it. "Miss J. H. Brenner, right? We were told to expect you. Your suite is on the top floor."

This moment, Pip entered, in a suit himself, but slightly less fitting with his bandage and eyepatch. "Oi, over 'ere!", he commanded. The employees, actually four of them, were busy with the huge coffin that was now wrapped in a white tarpaulin.

"It's on the top floor," Lady Vladimira told him.

Pip responded with a "Roger" before turning back to the employees. "'ey, over 'ere. It'z ze top floor."

The girl at the counter wasn't comfortable raising her voice, no, she wasn't happy speaking to these people at all. In her career, Raquel had seen her fair share of weird people, some of which weren't comfortable to be around with, especially for a girl that looked ten years younger than she was. But this was a whole new scale of weird. The woman was... scary. Just scary. Maybe she was a cosplayer, judging from the red contact lenses she had to be wearing, but nevertheless...

But duty was duty. "Ma'am, excuse me, but we can't have you keep such large luggage."

Miss Brenner didn't even turn her head to look at her. Only those red eyes focused on her. "There's no problem," she said.

"Yes there is!", Raquel insisted. Duty. She loved her job, but maybe she should think of an alternative. "Something of that size in this hotel..." She froze when the woman turned around. Raquel wanted to step back when she extended a hand, but couldn't move. Miss Brenner smiled softly and touched the girl's forehead. "There. Is no. Problem."

Right. What had she been worried about anyway? "There. Is. No. Problem," Raquel repeated. Such a nice woman. She had been stupid to think anything bad of her. And that luggage didn't look like a coffin either. She was just overworked.

"There is no problem," Lady Vladimira repeated.

"No problem," the girl said. "None at all." Seras tugged at Pip's sleeve. Alright, maybe there was a bit more to the vampire after all. The girl was smiling and staring straight ahead as if she was in a pleasant dream. Or completely stoned.

"Let's go. Hurry and bring it up," Lady Vladimira commanded. Now Pip finally turned around and his gaze fell on the girl at the counter. He actually hesitated before speaking, which was a rare occasion. "Whadya do? Magic?"

Much more quietly he added. "Some kind of sex beam or somezing?" Normally Seras would have nudged him for that, but she wasn't so sure herself. Weren't vampires known to be hypnotists? Better not think too much about that.

Lady Vladimira smiled and walked to the elevator. "I didn't do anything. More to the point, what's holding up the luggage?"

"It'z just scary how easy zis is," Pip said. Seras kept silent, but could only agree.

Lady Vladimira stopped. "Perhaps." Seras somehow found herself shooting a glance to the men sitting in the lobby, all middle aged, all in suits. Businessmen, probably. Why did she have such a bad feeling? "Hmph," the vampire said.

Pip hadn't seen it apparently. "Somezing amiss?"

Lady Vladimira grinned. Alright, scary. "There's no problem." But after a moment, everything was back to normal. Or... what normal meant in this company. "This promises to be a fun holiday." Pip took his fiancee's hand. What the hell was going on here? Maybe he shouldn't have listened to her after all. She was like a magnet for trouble.

"I've never seen such a huge hotel before," Seras said quietly when they exited on the top floor. "At least not from the inside." Pip didn't reply. They were both speechless for a moment. They were in some kind of lounge, stone floor, arches as doors, plants, paintings. The suite had to be bigger than the first flat the couple had shared for a few months.

"Would you look at zis!", he complained theatrically. "I'm used to cheap thirty dollar downtown hotels!" Seras couldn't help laughing. He was always so overly dramatic. A French thing, she thought by now. "It's ruddy bourgeois, I tell you!"

"Cheap hotels have their own advantages," Lady Vladimira said.

"Is zat so...", Pip asked sarcastically. Seras nudged him.

"Why?", she asked. The vampire didn't reply. She grabbed the tarpaulin and flung it carelessly away. It revealed the black and golden coffin. Pip stared at it for a second. "So zat's your coffin zen, eh?"

Lady Vladimira sat down and grinned. "Yes. My final dominion. Here I am born, here I die."

"I reckon suites and whatnot must be pointless to a woman like you." Seras had stepped forward while they were speaking, to get a better look at the coffin. It was an extraordinary piece of work, that was for sure. Outside the doors, there were steps. Seras turned around, wondering who that might be. Of course, the closed doors revealed nothing. Outside was only a long hallway framed by two rows of pillars.

Pip in the meantime was trying to get something more out of their "client". Seras would have liked to have some of these questions answered as well. Like why a vampire needed a bodyguard. But she grabbed Pip's sleeve. They shouldn't stretch a patience they didn't know. "The investigation starts tomorrow, right? We'll be there in the evening, Lady Vladimira." The vampire even brought them to the door. "Oh, I can hardly wait. Looks like it will be fun, this place." She leaned in the door and watched them go. Seras could have sworn they weren't alone in this luxurious hallway, but then again, maybe she was just paranoid.

"Miss Victoria, Captain Bernadotte." They stopped, surprised by this formal greeting.

"Pip and Seras, Lady," Seras offered without hesitation.

To their surprise, the vampire just laughed. "The only Lady is Caitlyn Hellsing. Call me Mira."

* * *

_"About thirty minutes ago an armed woman terrorist massacred several employees and guests of the hotel Rio de Janeiro. She is now barricaded at the top floor with approximately ten hostages. The military police are currently preparing for a confrontation. It is an extremely high-stress situation._" A pause. "_We've just been told b the authorities that the identity of the criminal has been determined._" The screen showed a photo of a pretty black-haired woman in a suit and orange sunglasses.

"_According to the hotel guest register, the woman is named J. H. Brenner. As she is believed to be extremely heavily armed, authorities have no choice but to exercise the highest caution_."

Pip almost spat out his beer. Seras on his lap only stared at the screen with big eyes. "How...?" So much for a relaxing evening for two. That's what you got for turning on the TV for a bit privacy in a cheap hotel. First the scary sex beam thing the vampire did, then he found his cigarettes were gone, probably lost in all the hustle and now this. "Merde!" With that, they both jumped off the bed and began to dress.

_Hellsing mansion, London, September 18th, 2016, 4.30am_

Caitlyn was reading Shakespeare again. Not because this was a great time for reading. But she needed a few helpful words. Walter was on the phone with Sir Penwood. The Round Table wanted answers, they wanted a plan, they wanted a reason to either dissolve or take over Hellsing. Once this was over with, of course. So all the casualties would be blamed on her.

"Well hello there, Sir Irons." Even from her position a bit further away, Caitlyn could hear Irons barking orders. "I'm afraid that will not be possible. No Sir, I agree..."

"Give me Miss Hellsing!" The last order was loud and sharp enough even for Caitlyn to be heard.

_Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot, that it do singe yourself._

"Lady Caitlyn, Sir Irons wants to talk to you." Caitlyn was distantly aware of being glad that not only she was angry. Being angry was better than being confused or scared.

_Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep._

"Sir Irons."

"What the hell is your pet doing?!" In the background, Penwood was trying to calm the other members, apparently without success.

"Mira is not my pet, she's my servant. Also, she hasn't done anything."

"How do you want to know? Have you spoken to her?"

Caitlyn looked at Walter. Sometimes she wished he would give her a hint, a tip what she should do. No matter how immoral or conscienceless it might be.

_Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe._

"Yes. Just minutes ago. This is Millennium's work."

Unbelievable, but Irons had the insolence to ask: "Are you sure she said the truth?" He wasn't expecting _her_ to lie. She was just a stupid little girl to them.

Caitlyn gritted her teeth. "Of course. There seems to be a misunderstanding as to the loyalty of my subordinates." _I've been working better with a man that is supposed to be my foe than with my so-called partners. If that isn't rotten I don't know._

"Maybe. We will leave this matter in your hands, Miss Hellsing." Without saying goodbye, Irons hung up. Caitlyn put down the phone. Or tried to. Walter caught it before her shaking hand dropped it. "Lady Caitlyn?"

_Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown._

"Give Mira a call. If you can't get her, try Seras and Pip." She sat down on her chair. Her gaze fell on her smartphone. It was one hour later in Italy now. What were the chances?

_Good early morning, Bishop Maxwell. What are the chances that you know who is involved in this situation?_

"Lady Caitlyn, they have ceased vidding the hotel," Walter reported.

"So they mean to infiltrate." Caitlyn stared at the small black screen. What could she do? Was there anything she could do? "What will Mira do?"

"It's merely a hindrance on the way to her overall objective."

Caitlyn looked up. "They're just humans." As if that mattered. For neither of them. Why was she even asking a vampire? This was unfair, so unfair. She hadn't chosen this. The struggle for power, with external and internal foes, and the mind games with those two immortal monsters.

...She had just called them monsters. The one thing she had refused to do since the beginning. Those red eyes, beautiful, eerie, cold, seemed to see all that. He didn't mind. It was the truth after all. Walter smiled at her, patiently awaiting his orders.

Caitlyn had never felt that alone in her life.

_Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, September 17th, 2016, midnight_

Mira could hear them outside, hustling, the machine guns rattling, their nervous commands. Securing every way down. As if she couldn't just walk away if she wanted to. But why would she? If there was so much fun to come. They were back. Somehow, they had made it back from the dead and now it was time for war again. How beautiful that was.

Caitlyn must have seen this by now, even though it was the middle of the night in Britain. Alexandru too. What were they doing now? The whole world was watching. And if it was up to her, they would get to see a magnificent show.

Mira changed her clothes back to the red coat and placed her phone on a table in a room off the direct way. Caitlyn had gotten it for her and it shouldn't get damaged. Mira had begun to like the possibilities of modern technology. Photographs, for example. It had to be nice to have a picture of someone like he actually looked like, not like the painter adopted it.

The door was slammed open. But of course, the first room was empty. "There's no way down!", the leader shouted. "Find her!"

Mira closed her eyes, just for a moment, and smiled. Fools. Foolish mortals, throwing away their precious lives for the ambition of their commanders.

"Commandante!"

"What in the... a coffin?" Mira froze. Her coffin. They wouldn't dare to. They _would NOT DARE TO!_

"There's something written on it. The bird of Hermes is my name.. eating my wings to make me tame? What is this?"

"Don't touch my coffin." Mira approached them, barely suppressing a growl. The men spun, raising their guns. Foolish mortals. If they only so much as touched it... "FREEZE!" They still had a chance. But of course, mortals never saw them until it was too late.

"Don't. Touch. My. Coffin." They didn't move. Of course not. "Get away. Get away from my coffin." _While you still can._

"FIRE!" The bullets tore through her, ripping flesh into bits until nothing was left but tatters.

_War is such a beautiful thing. The dogs of war always remain. And they never negotiate. Fair enough, so do I._

"Thought I told you not to move, twisted bitch." The men were full of fear. Even now, that their enemy was lying on the ground, nothing more than bloody shreds. "We had orders to shoot to kill in the first place. But that was too much. I'd call it overkill."

"So what? We were told not to take any chances. But what the hell was with that woman? Was she just stupid?"

"Who knows? That's for our superiors to deal with." Puny mortals with small problems. Once they had left, they would take off the masks and maybe have a drink together and enjoy their pointless lives. Only that would never happen again. For their bosses they would now die, not knowing why, like so many before them and so many that would come. Mira sincerely hoped Caitlyn was watching this right now. And Alexandru. The Major was certainly watching. Walter would be happy to encounter them again. So he could finally settle some differences.

"Damned hounds." They spun and froze. Stupid humans. They should have run when they still could. "Your power is impressive. But a pack of hounds can't beat me."

She thought of the woman that had "tamed" her. The battle of a century, a battle hardly anyone ever heard of in the end. The only life claimed in the end had been Quincey Morris. Quincey P. Morris, whose brother happened to marry Doctor van Helsing's daughter, who happened to be Lady Caitlyn's great-grandmother. So it came around.

"I can not be killed," Mira said. Her substance reformed, formed a new body. It was so easy. Fools. "That which defeats a monster is always a man." Abigail van Helsing, the great vampire huntress, on that fateful day in what was now known as Romania.

She burrowed her teeth in the first man's throat. The blood was hot and bitter. She threw him away like a rag doll. That was exactly what they were. Talking dolls, ready to be tossed into the trash. The head came off easily. Blood splattered on his colleagues. Their bullets didn't even hit her. Another one was ripped to pieces, his life fleeing back in the great stream, if you believed in this concept.

Two.

She ripped them to pieces, squashed them, ripped off their limbs and heads. Three, four, five, six. Lives gone, in barely a minute. What else did a monster need to be the happiest?

The last one, the leader, wanted to flee. They always wanted to when it was already too late. The doors fell shut in front of him. He crashed into them, searched for a key, rattled the handles.

"They won't open," Mira explained like talking to a slightly retarded child. The man spun, taking in the bloodied figure, the teeth still buried in one of his colleague's throat. She dropped the body and heard the blood happily splatter on the floor.

The man dropped to the floor, sobbing, shaking, yet directing a weapon at her. "F- Freak!", he whimpered.

Mira slightly cocked her head and smiled. "I get that a lot, you know," she said softly. "What does that make you? A man? A dog? A freak?"

The man lowered the gun, his frightened eyes fixed on the blood trickling from her mouth. _Ah look. Maybe somebody with the remains of wits._ But no. She had expected too much. The man only put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Mira stared at him for a moment and then growled. Fool. All of them. Humans never changed.

She shook off the blood and took off the hat and coat while walking to the side room where she had put her phone. "Seras, Pip?"

"Yes, La- I mean, Mira," the girl answered immediately. There was more to her than it seemed. Mira liked that. She was not such a coward like all the others.

"Get yourself a helicopter or something and take the coffin. On the roof."

"A helicopter?", she heard Pip's incredulous voice, synchronous with Seras' confused: "On the roof?"

"Yes, on the roof. It won't be a problem. But take out the leaders first."

"Yes, Ma'am... Mira. Then... we'll pick you up there?" What a reliable team. You could actually get used to that. Provided they survived.

"Oh no. I still have to check out. I'll walk out the front door." She smiled at the coffin, that slowly got up and stretched. Mira rang off. Now this was done for. "It's been a while, my friend."

_Indeed it has, master._

"Pip and Seras will pick you up. Take care of them for me while I'm busy. Lady Caitlyn would be very upset if anything happened to them."

_Of course, my master._ The coffin didn't move yet. Mira had to laugh. Interesting, how stubborn a piece of furniture could be. She tossed him a pack of cigarettes. If Pip had noticed them to be gone? When her invaluable partner had left, heading for the roof, she dialed another number.

_Hellsing mansion, London_

Caitlyn was staring at the closed book again. Maxwell had answered her – obviously still half asleep, considering the single typo – that he had not the slightest idea what was going on.

Great, just great. Then Walter had handed her a direct order from her Majesty. On the 20th, there would be a conference in Krauney house, the royal family villa. It was not just the Round Table. This seemed to be over the heads of even them. They would try to arrange a treaty with the Vatican. So the meeting would include representatives of the Vatican, probably meaning Maxwell, and Britain, meaning Caitlyn, the Round Table and even the queen. _Kinda unfair, one person against more than a dozen._ But that was probably the point. She would be surprised if Maxwell would let that intimidate him.

She jumped when the phone on the desk rang. _The direct line? Please not Irons again._

"Hello?", she asked plainly. She was too tired for this bullshit.

"Lady Caitlyn, it's your loyal servant. Give me your orders, my master."

"What happened?"

She could almost hear the smile. She heard a ruffling of fabric. Mira was probably... putting on her coat? "As you no doubt know, immediately after our arrival we were besieged. Their reach extends further than we thought. Our moves are read. A specialized police unit attempted an infiltration just now." Caitlyn wanted to ask what happened, and couldn't. If she talked, Mira would hear how close she was to crying. She hadn't chosen this. Why did she have to decide about so many lives? Mira went on, as if Caitlyn had asked her anyway. "I killed them. I _exterminated_ them. Down to the last man. Now, Caitlyn, give me your orders."

Why did this feel like some kind of test? Mira had played games with her before, Caitlyn recognized it, but never like this. Never on this level. And who could she turn to? Nobody. She was alone. She had to get through this alone. Like it had always been.

"The higher-ups of the police force are probably controlled by them," Mira said. "However, the ones who were just following orders to break in here, the ones I killed and will try to kill again, are just typical ignorant humans." Caitlyn could hear Mira's grin. She was greatly enjoying this. Why had she never seen it before? Monsters didn't know love and families, the things Caitlyn thought she had finally found on that confusing day five years ago.

"I can kill them. I can massacre them without even a bit of hesitation, an ounce of regret. Because _I am a monster_."

"Yes, you are," Caitlyn whispered. She wiped her eyes and directed her gaze at Walter, standing there with the hint of a smile. She really was the only sane person in this madhouse. Or maybe she was insane and couldn't even see it anymore. But if anyone was for playing mind games, then it was her. Mira talked, talked about killing and how it would be Caitlyn's will to end so many lives.

"Walter? A tea please."

"Yes, Lady Caitlyn." With him gone, Caitlyn could put down the receiver, wipe her face and take a few deep breaths. She had nowhere else to go to. So she should better do her job properly. A strong person was able to admit weaknesses after all. And did she really have a choice? She picked up her phone.

"What about Seras and Pip?", she asked while typing.

"I've sent them away. Once I have my orders, I will walk out of these doors. It's time to teach our watchers a little lesson who they have picked a fight with."

Caitlyn's phone beeped. The answer was short: _No._

"They are just human."

"So what?" Caitlyn winced. Monsters. That was what it really meant. Mira seemed to know her thoughts, even from that distance. Why was she that angry all of a sudden? She tried to hide it and appear calm, even patronizing, but Caitlyn could hear her rage. "What difference does it make? They came to us! To defeat, to kill, and make us rot away or to be defeated, and killed, and rot away themselves. That is all! That is everything! It's the way of war!"

"Maybe," Caitlyn said quietly.

"No," Mira said, sobered. "That's all there is. That's the sole truth."

Walter sat down a cup of tea in front of her. He was curious what had happened while he was gone. Caitlyn seemed to be calm, seemed to have made up her mind. She was stronger than she knew herself. "No, Mira. That's not true. _Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings._" She shot her butler a smile. "Free will. That's the sole truth. They will not force us to do anything, and if it is at the cost of our lives. Not as long as I am head of Hellsing."

Silence at the other end. Walter couldn't fight admiring smile. Impressive. Mira had been right when she said one day Caitlyn could be a fearful commander. Then Mira started to laugh.

"Of course, master. Then give me your orders, Lady Caitlyn Olivier Morris Hellsing!"

Caitlyn took a sip of her tea. _There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so._ And: _To do a great right do a little wrong._

"Leave the civilians out of this. Take the battle to somewhere the public isn't involved. I want the leaders, not the innocents that are only following orders. Defend yourself, but... keep the casualties as low as possible. Crush Millennium." Her fingernails dug into her palms. Caitlyn closed her eyes, trying to stay calm. _Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush, stumble and fall._

"That was all." She didn't like the way Mira was laughing. As if her orders didn't change anything.

"Then watch closely, Lady Hellsing." The line was cut off. Caitlyn looked into the tea cup as if it would give her any advise.

"Walter? What do you think Mira will do? No... What would you do with those orders?"

He sat on the sofa, legs crossed, and shot her a charming smile. It was the first time Caitlyn didn't cringe slightly, knowing he was out of her reach. What had changed? Her? Him? Something else?

"Well, there is no doubt she will try to minimize civilian damage," Walter said slowly. "The question is... how low will that be in total?"

_Vatican City, September 18th_

The camera teams had picked up on filming the hotel again. It didn't seem like anything would happen soon, but Enrico could at least show a bit more interest in something he should be really worried about. His only comment "Millennium has finally chose to reveal themselves" had sounded strangely happy. And _now _he had decided his laptop needed a reboot? Or whatever it was he was doing there. It included a lot of code, as far as Lisa had seen that.

His phone gave a discreet ringing. Enrico was in the study, but the phone was here on the table. Lisa stared at it. She would regret this. She would probably hate herself for it. He would, if he found out. She picked up the phone and unlocked it. Of course she knew the pattern needed. Enrico knew hers as well. It was a matter of trust. A trust Lisa would now betray for the first time in her life. She should rather just call him and give him the phone, like she normally did. There was nothing happening in Rio anyway at the moment.

He had received a new message from Caitlyn Hellsing. They had exchanged a few before, Lisa knew that, though Enrico was still puzzling over the question how Lady Hellsing had gotten his number in the first place. The last message, just received, was only one sentence long. _Is it right to sacrifice innocent lives to prove a point?_

Lisa stared at the message. Why would Lady Hellsing ask Enrico of all people for advise? They had only met once, it hadn't gone too well. Technically, they were enemies, which didn't stop them, in Lisa's eyes, to fall in love at first sight.

She typed _No_ and sent it. Then she looked in the contact info and copied Lady Hellsing's number into her own phone. What ever that might be good for someday.

"Anything interesting happening?", her brother's voice came from the study.

Lisa winced. What the hell was she doing here? She deleted the message and her response and put the phone back on the table. "Not really."

"Well, then I've got something." She looked at the screen a last time. Nothing. The police units were probably entering this moment. So she left the living room and joined her brother.

Enrico had leaned back. On the notebook screen, there was one big picture of a hallway filled with a heavily armed police unit. For a moment Lisa wondered what he wanted with that picture. Then she realized it was a live stream from inside the hotel. However he had managed that in only half an hour. _Except he knew something like this was going to happen. You are keeping a lot from each other lately, aren't you?_

The doors to the suite swung open and the vampire walked out. The red coat was carelessly draped over her shoulders, the guns blinked softly in her hands. She just walked along the corridor, as if the men weren't there at all. They wouldn't be so stupid, right? _Of course they will._ And they were. They actually tried to attack the vampire. And Vladimira killed them. The bullets literally ripped the men to pieces, not more than one shot was needed. Whatever gun that was, it was powerful. And Anderson had actually taken some of those bullets? One after the other fell, was reduced to a bloody mass on the ground, in barely less than a minute. The remaining units did the most intelligent thing of the whole evening: Running. Too late.

The angle changed and showed a different part of the hallway. The vampire had given them time to flee while enjoying a little snack, but of course the humans were way too slow. Blood splattered everywhere when the vampire chased after them. The cameras didn't transmit sound, but the roar seemed to echo in Lisa's head, like the screams of the dead. The team tried to retreat into the elevator, but something went wrong. The doors didn't close until a man fell out, shot in the head, and it was too late. The vampire opened the doors and went in.

Lisa took her brother's hand. She needed something to hold on to if she didn't want to go crazy. This was... this was just madness. Somewhere in the back of her head something tried to get her attention to her brother, to the way _he_ was reacting to this. But her eyes were fixed to the bloodbath inside the hotel. The camera changed to the lobby, where dead employees of the hotel and guests were already strewn. The vampire left the elevator and for a second there was a picture of bloodied bodies lying above each other in a disordered heap. The vampire shot the few men in the lobby belonging to the police and looked around before stuffing away the guns.

Enrico stood up and hastily pulled her back into the living room. Just now Lisa got a better look at him. He was wide awake despite the hour, his eyes sparkling, there were even the hints of a smile on his face. Just now she realized she was holding his injured hand. Normally he was complaining about it all day, but now he didn't even seem to notice in his childlike excitement.

A frightened little voice inside of her insisted it was not because of his success in accessing the hotel security system from here. This frightened little voice asked her, almost inaudible, if that was still her brother, or a monster she had never known.

_Rio de Janeiro, Brazil_

"I'll take care of ze bosses," Pip promised. "Get ze helicopter."

"How am I... oh, bloody hell!" Pip had already run off, to the tent where the leaders of the police forces were sitting safely. "How am I supposed to get a damn helicopter?"

Her phone rang. "Yes?"

"Seras, get on the top of that hotel," Lady Caitlyn commanded. "Mira might need backup. There's a fire ladder on the back. Also... Also I need someone to tell me what happened off camera." She seemed to have trouble keeping calm. "Get out of the crowds now. As fast as you can." Then the line was cut off. Seras stared at the phone. Lady Vladimira needing backup? Was that some kind of joke? Lady Hellsing's shaking voice certainly wasn't.

There was a crashing sound. The ground floor windows of the hotel exploded. Shadows were flung high up in the sky. Seras could hear the journalists barking orders to get it on tape. Maybe they better hadn't. Maybe they just should have run.

The bodies of the policemen came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the flagpoles. The crowd gasped like one person. But still nobody wanted to flee. Seras could understand that. She was frozen in place herself. "Pip?", she whispered in her microphone.

"Oui, ma chére?"

"I think I won't be able to get the helicopter. And darling?"

"Oui?" Now he sounded surprised. Seras didn't really like nicknames.

"You were right from the beginning. We shouldn't have taken this job."

The door of the hotel opened and a graceful, horrible figure stepped out. Mira had the coat draped over her shoulders and the arms crossed in front of her chest, observing the gaping crowd with a slight smile, her shadow cast three stories high. These pictures were broadcasted into the world. Seras began to run.

Mira observed the crowd. The mercenary girl was pushing her way through them, headed for a destination unknown to Mira. Caitlyn's last possibility to influence this. Such a huge place, so many innocent onlookers, only kept alive by the idealism of a young woman thousands of miles away.

_Free will. The famous quality._ She smiled and spread her arms, an invitation to whatever agent Millennium had dispatched. _The biggest lie humanity has ever told itself._ "Now then, come on out. I've had quite my fill of the smorgasbord. Or do I have to fill this place with the dead?"

Someone walked through the crowds. A local in a white suit. He stepped onto the plaza and bowed, smiling at her from under his fedora. A vampire again. Mira would have sighed if not for all the fun she already had. "Goodness me," he said in a Portuguese accent. "Wasn't that a magnificent meal. But, after all, you are the much renowned Alucard."

Mira growled quietly, but he didn't seem to hear it. What difference did it make? Should they call her what they wanted. After all, they wouldn't do anything anymore in just a short while.

"My name is Tubalcain Alhambra. To those close to me, I am known as the Dandy."

Just another one of those fools. "Are you the one who sent in that pitiful bunch?", she asked, pointing at the impaled policemen. That was her nickname after all. Vladimira Tepec. The impaler.

"Ahh, those poor souls you mean?" Alhambra had pulled out a card, the ace of spades, holding it between two fingers like a shuriken. "They are there because their foolish superiors wanted it badly enough to sacrifice all of their men. Eternal life that is."

Mira laughed. "They're fools beyond redemption. In this world, eternity doesn't even exist."

He pushed the brim of the hat up with the card. "Even this wretched group proved useful to me, just a little. How many of those special bullets you're so proud of are left, Alucard?"

"My name is Vladimira."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Vladimira. Like Vladimir, with an A at the end. Mark that, Major. Now that the pleasantries have been exchanged, what will happen next?"

"Now I'll take your unlife," Alhambra grinned. "The time has come for you to join the ranks of Millennium's insignificant samples." A flood of cards enveloped her. Mira looked around, wondering what he wanted to do with that. Smother her? Then there was an explosion. Razors cut through the air. Mira landed on her feet on the stairs. Impressive. Truly impressive. When the smoke cleared, Alhambra smirked at her. The pain set in later. A line of blood appeared on her cheek. Mira wiped it off and smiled at the red on her fingers. Astounding. "Of course. I knew it all along. Seems like you didn't learn anything from being destroyed once."

She easily dodged the cards. Alhambra dodged her shots. They hit the journalists still standing there like the mortal fools they were. They were cut to pieces and shot on the spot like traitors. Mira didn't aim for them, of course. Alhambra was just so hellishly fast. Really amazing.

Lady Caitlyn would not be happy about this. Then again, what did she want to do? Would the Round Table even try to oppose someone with such a powerful servant?

_Free will is a myth. Everything has a mean, an end, a cause. You are determined by the world and the God that lets you down._

The bullet hit Alhambra in the head. How disappointing. But then his body turned to cards. Pain flashed when something hit her in the side. She stumbled and fell to her knees. She could feel hot blood flow on the ground. A lot of blood. Then there were the cards again and a new explosion.

Mira grinned at the Dandy and enjoyed his shocked face when he saw her on the wall of the hotel. Lady Caitlyn had given her orders to exclude the civilians. Or what was left of them now. So she better did that.

"Oh no, you don't," she heard the Dandy, but didn't really pay attention. Once on the roof, her legs gave way, just for a second. The bleeding didn't want to stop. There was more to the Dandy and his special cards than met the eye. She started laughing, every breath accompanied by pain. "How fascinating." How long had she waited for a real fight! The moment she had been freed from her long sleep by Lady Caitlyn she had known there was trouble to come. She had always known Millennium was still there. On its knees, but not destroyed. And how interesting it would be to see Lady Caitlyn become a real warrior, merciless and strong. Beautiful. She was holding up quite well so far. How refreshing to have someone in the lead with a conscience that extended even to strangers.

Steps behind her. "Are you prepared, Alucard?", Alhambra asked. "Go back to your homeland, the lovely depths of hell." She could have reminded him that Alucard was not her name. But what would that accomplish? Instead... Millennium was back and she could kill again. This was wonderful, just wonderful.

"What is so funny?"

At first she could barely speak, laughing as hard as she was. "I'm just so happy," she eventually exclaimed. "Happy to find that dreadful idiots like you still exist today." She turned around, the wound healing in her shadows. It would be lovely to see how long he could keep up with her.

"Millennium. The Last Battalion. The undead Kampfgruppe, led by the mad Major. To this day, the world is still brimming with madness." The modern people were so proud of their peace and laws, and didn't want to see that nothing had changed. It was wonderful.

She got up and grinned at him. This would be fun. Too bad Caitlyn would never see it. "Come let's have a little song and dance. Alhambra. You'll be squealing like a pig."

But still she couldn't silence the voice inside of her asking: _Did I do the right thing?_


	15. Bad Company

Whew, new chapter :D

Thanks to Bellzanaph and wolfstar04 (since I forgot to mention that earlier) for the reviews.

* * *

**Chapter 14: Bad Company**

_Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA, September 18th, 2016_

"Stop jumping on the spot, would you?"

Vicky blushed and stopped. "Sorry. I'm just so excited. My first mission."

Heinkel sighed, suppressing a smile. She remembered her own first mission, just a low-key vampire, but she had been tense like it was the most dangerous enemy Earth ever faced and everyone relied on her. Yumie had been with her and Father Anderson. There had been no complications. Except a small explosion. But that had not even been her fault. Father Anderson had watched out for them and she would watch out for her own student. So it went round and round, generation after generation.

The club was shabby from the outside, just another building made of dirty bricks, graffiti everywhere. Door and windows were boarded up with black plastic boards or something. Not a ray of sun got in there. Not that it was incredibly sunny right now. The two women could be glad about the warm coats they were wearing. Their weapons were in the backpack Heinkel had, together with a few other useful things, wrapped safely in a plastic bag. Heinkel didn't want to admit it in front of her student, but it made her nervous having no access to her trusted Desert Eagles.

Over the entrance, the name of the club was illuminated by violet and blue neon tubes. The colors were barely recognizable in daylight under a layer of dirt. Either they wanted to make it look abandoned or they were that sloppy. Hopefully it was the first option.

"Let's go." Heinkel slowly walked away from the entrance. Here in the middle of the city nobody was really paying attention to them, it was way too crowded for that, but they shouldn't stand around for too long. Vicky hastily caught up to her. "Where are we going?"

"Preparing for the evening." They turned into a narrow side street. A fire ladder went up to the second floor. Thanks to the cold weather, the stink of the garbage cans was more or less bearable. "Come on." Heinkel climbed up the ladder until it ended. Somebody had sawed off the last part. Clever. Only few would be able to go on here. Vampires, for example. Or somebody who could see and use all the small ledges that had been edged into the side of the building. Ignoring her icy hands, she swung over to the first one. No matter how fragile it looked, it held her weight and after a moment she could rest her feet on a windowsill. The glass was blackened from the inside. "Now you." Vicky looked at her with more nervousness than Heinkel could be comfortable with, but obeyed. Reaching the roof of Ferdinant Luke's was a piece of cake in comparison to this, Heinkel knew that. Maybe it would have been better leaving Vicky on the ground. She was good at climbing, but not that good.

The girl swung over and grabbed the ledge. She acted like a professional, aiming and grabbing the stones. Then she lost her balance. For a second she hung on the tiny ledge, only on her fingertips. Heinkel managed to grab her and she fell on the windowsill, pale and trembling. "Thanks."

"No problem." Heinkel took a moment to judge if her student would be able to go on. Yes. That was why they were here. And she wouldn't stay behind anyway. "Wait here." For a moment it had seemed... but no. Victoria's training had been rigorous and successful. She was just nervous. For such a case her teacher was with her after all. The worst part was over anyway. She grabbed the upper ledge the window provided and found another one just next to the window. It was only a few meters to the roof and the ledges were easy to climb up. Once she was on top, she gestured her student to follow. Vicky tried to mimic her, not as fast, but at least without any more accidents. Eventually Heinkel could grab her arm and pull her on the roof. She gave her a few minutes to rest.

"We won't go down the same way, right?", Vicky asked with a shaky smile.

Heinkel suppressed a sigh. "No."

After a few minutes she asked: "Okay?" Vicky nodded slowly, her breathing already growing calmer again. Heinkel stood up. They had still a lot of time, but idling never did anyone any good.

"How do you do that? Aren't you afraid what happens when you fall?", Vicky asked. She had asked herself long, and her teacher's answer she gave when they met for the first time on the roof of Ferdinant Luke's didn't want to go out of her head. She just couldn't understand it. Heinkel looked genuinely surprised. "Not at all." She looked over the ledge, the asphalt a good eight or nine meters under them. "I don't fall." The words were more directed at herself.

Vicky didn't even dare to ask. Then her teacher smiled. "No, seriously, I've never fallen off anywhere," she said. "Unless I jumped, of course. Tell you what." She turned around and walked to the door leading into the building. Vicky hastily followed.

"The day I fall will be the day I die."

The door was unlocked and swung open without a sound. A musty-smelling staircase awaited them. Heinkel automatically laid her hand on the small pistol in her pocket. She hated being so vulnerable, but they didn't have a choice. Victoria held her other hand so she wouldn't bump into her and alarm anyone. The house was next to pitch black while they slowly descended the staircase winding down into the vampire's nest. A tiny green light blinked under them. The signal which marked the end of the stairs, their contact had told them. A moment later, her feet touched the wooden floor. The planks creaked slightly. It smelled of sweat and things that should better stay unimagined.

They followed the plan Heinkel had been handed and memorized on the flight. On both sides were doors with bedrooms. Somewhere here, the owners of the club were sleeping in their coffins. Jan and Luke Valentine. There had to be a woman here as well, but the contact didn't have any information on her. Heinkel wondered how the Ridgeway company could get in here anyway. They had their people everywhere, even more literally than she had imagined.

The Valentine brothers owned the whole building, although they were mere pawns to Millennium, as Maxwell had put it. A few more missing in a huge city like this didn't exactly show up in the statistics as long as they were careful.

The two women had reached the next staircase, marked by a red light. Heinkel pulled out a tiny flashlight and let it wash over the corridor. That was why she always had her sunglasses with her, despite being mocked for it sometimes. Now she could see perfectly fine while Vicky was still squinting. The corridor was empty, the seven doors closed, three on the right, four on the left. The house might have been an office in the past, judging from the arrangement of the rooms and the plastic signs next to the doors. You could put a card with a name there. And what a surprise, there was one. _The most amazing Jan fucking Valentine, bitch!_ It read.

_Lovely._ She shut off the flashlight and waited for a few seconds so her eyes could readjust to the darkness. The red light was still there, although the emitter had been invisible to her in the light of the flashlight. They certainly weren't amateurs.

Vicky's hand closed around hers again and they went on. There were two top floors like this. The night club itself stretched over the ground floor and the first, the top part only a gallery with a few rooms behind it. Eventually, they reached a door leading to the gallery. Violet light shone from the crack under the door. Vicky tensed, despite knowing all her teacher knew: That at least one of the vampires, most probably the younger brother, would be sleeping in the club after another excessive night. Being a vampire might be a sin, Vicky thought, and, if not of your own choosing, even a minor one. But this? She shuddered.

The door was just as soundless as the others. There, on a luxurious divan that had definitely seen better days, lay a young man with dark skin and unruly black hair in a jogging suit. He was pierced with shimmering rings all over and seemed to be sleeping soundly. At least he snored loudly, exposing fangs and blood in his mouth. Even as a human, this would just have been bad taste. Ugh.

Heinkel, amused at her student's distaste (which she could fully understand – there had been missions in better locations before), pulled her on. They descended the stairs. The main room of the club consisted mostly of a dancing floor. There were sofas at the sides and a few tables. Left on the entrance was a bar. If everything got a good cleaning, it might even be nice.

The toilets were on the right side. They stank miserably. Once the door was closed, Heinkel put on her sunglasses and flicked on the lights. "Good work so far."

Vicky stared at her with big eyes. "Shouldn't we be quiet?", she whispered.

"Nah, the rooms are all more or less soundproof. Voices shouldn't get through." She grinned at Victoria's speechlessness. "Just wanted to check if you get the sneaky part. Good work." Despite being still flustered, Vicky swelled a little inside when she heard that. Her teacher was not exactly generous giving out praise.

"Why would they be soundproof?"

"I'm not sure I want to know." Vicky shuddered again and dropped the topic.

"So... what are we going to do?" Heinkel nudged open one of the stall doors, grimacing. She was glad she wore gloves she could get rid of after this. As expected, the toilets were old and equipped with the typical water tank. She removed the lid and stowed their weapons – waterproof in more plastic bags than necessary – away.

"We check out the vampires, maybe get a bit of info about Millennium and then eradicate them. Sounds good?" Vicky nodded after a moment's hesitation. She was almost a paladin but...  
"Do I fit in here? I'm 16."

"I doubt they would care. Besides, you're tall. We're just two girls, best friends, out on a late night stroll through the clubs." She closed the stall door and looked around. Just a small dirty bathroom, nothing anyone would like to visit. Nothing remarkable, no possible emergency escape. "I'll take on the younger one – that's the guy upstairs. If anything happens, you can come to me, okay?"

"Yes, Mum," Vicky said, trying to sound ironic, and failing. All of a sudden she was getting nervous and very glad she was not alone.

"Alright then, let's go before sleeping beauty wakes up. We'll need a bit of rest before tonight." She shut off the lights and put away her sunglasses. After a moment she opened the door. Nothing had changed in the roughly five minutes they had spent preparing the evening. Jan was still snoring upstairs. Heinkel gestured Vicky to follow her take a peek behind the bar. As she had expected, a rifle had been stored there, and not a simple one. A semi-automatic machine gun. Not bad for a shabby establishment like this. She would have felt better removing it, but there was nowhere they could put it and climbing all the way to the top of the building again was too risky.

Then a man stumbled past them and tripped loudly over a neon-illuminated step, crashing to the floor. Vicky froze, but her teacher pulled her behind the bar. The last she saw was that the man's neck was bloodstained. With a grunt, the vampire over their heads woke. "What the fuck's happenin'?", he growled. The two Iscariots couldn't see what happened but the man – seemingly the most hungover person in world history – scrambled to his feet and slowly trotted away, murmuring an excuse. The door slammed and he was gone.

"Fucker!", the vampire said and went back to sleep. Vicky thought her heart must be heard in all of the room, especially by a vampire, but nothing happened. After a while Heinkel pointed at the door. They crossed the dancing floor, exited and the door fell shut behind them. The oppressive heat disappeared to be replaced by the exhaust-tainted cold fall air of a big city. Just now Vicky realized she was drenched in sweat.

Without a word they walked back to the hotel they were staying in. Vicky decided to take a shower, while Heinkel went over her plan again and checked her phone. Enrico had sent her a message that the conference was rescheduled to the 19th. They would never make it, even if the club was done for this night. So Enrico would take Lisa as his bodyguard. Fine. Anderson was still in Brazil, without any more results than putting up with human mercenaries tasked by Millennium.

Yumiko wrote an email. She just watched Kingsman and would like them to watch it together. Also she went on a lengthy description of how she helped Section X because Enrico wanted to know what Section VIII had been doing the last years. That struck Heinkel as slightly illogical. Probably Enrico just wanted to keep her busy. She ended with a blessing and the wish her partner and her student would come home unharmed.

Heinkel smiled. Yumiko could be incredibly overprotective, despite her dislike for going on such missions. She wrote back she would tell Yumiko (or Yumie) every detail once she was home, but so far, everything had gone according to plan. Vicky was holding up well. Also, she hoped her friend had fun at Section X and would love to see that movie, she heard it was really good. Maybe after the conference they could have dinner, just the three girls, and have a long chat.

They had said goodbye about twenty hours ago. So much for that. Now then, it was just past noon, she had enough time for a nap before the action started. After all, this time it was not just about taking care of herself.

* * *

"Time to wake up." Vicky shot upright immediately, despite her swimming vision and the remains of confusing dreams. All of a sudden she was very hungry. "Yes, teacher?" That was what she wanted to say. Most of the words was swallowed in a huge yawn she couldn't suppress. She rubbed her eyes and needed a moment to recognize the person standing in front of her.

Heinkel had slicked her hair back on the sides so it didn't fall in her face. The make-up was so discreet it could have been done by a professional, but enough to cover up the scars that normally were so distinctive on her cheeks. Her gray-green eyes were accentuated by a light blue shade and mascara. She wore tight black jeans with boots and an equally tight blue tank top with a black leather jacket over it. In terms of coverage it was even conservative, but holy crap the men would probably stare until their eyes fell out. If Vicky hadn't known that was the same Heinkel Wolfe, she would not have been sure.

"Whoa," she said.

Heinkel broke out laughing. "If you keep staring like that, your eyes will get stuck."

Vicky blushed and hastily scrambled out of bed. "I... I hope the clothes I brought are fitting." She definitely wouldn't look _that_ good. Behind the male clothing and unruly hair was an attractive woman. Vicky had never realized that. Most others probably didn't either. Maybe, she thought, that was the point of the whole masquerade.

"Well, you need something you can fight in. So no high heels. Unless you prove to me that works out." Vicky shook her head. "And you?"

Her teacher laughed. "I can barely walk in those. No thanks." She rummaged through her bag and got out a lunch box. "If you're hungry, here." Vicky caught the apple in the air.

"Thanks." It was half past nine in the evening. Despite the flutter in her stomach she ate the apple down to the core. Then she dressed in what she had brought. The outfit was similar to her teacher's, but the only black thing about her were her hair and sneakers. A red shirt, blue jeans and a gray jacket. The clothes were less tight and definitely less sexy. Despite that, she felt a bit uncomfortable dressing up like this. She always had to think she wasn't even old enough to officially go clubbing. Not that she really wanted to. "Is that necessary?"

Heinkel didn't say anything, but her glance said enough. Vicky obliged and tried to put on make-up as good as she could. She was somewhat embarrassed to ask, but her teacher helped without any comment. In the end, it looked great.

Heinkel went back to their bags and put her phone in the pocket of her jacket. "You... you didn't look like the type for that," Vicky said eventually.

"I wouldn't say I'm into it. It's part of the job. Yumie and I have done a lot of weird stuff to stay undercover."

"Like what?"

"Like singing Highway to Hell and table dancing. That was Yumie, though, not me." Vicky had to grin imagining that. Heinkel checked the time and sat down to finish her apple. "Besides, sometimes it's nice to have more freedom than regular nuns, you know?" Vicky nodded. She could see the point, but her mind was on something else. It was weird how different Heinkel looked without the scars she had always known. She seemed to read her student's thoughts.

"Scars are too easy to remember afterwards." She threw the apple core into the wastebasket and stood up. "Alright then. You ready?"

Vicky suddenly needed to swallow to be able to speak. "Yes."

Heinkel smiled. "Remember, anything happens, I'm there. Oh, and don't ever, under no circumstances, accompany them anywhere without telling me. Or, not even that, don't go anywhere without me." Vicky thought she had no intention of doing so anyway. "Aside of that, try not to take a bullet." Vicky had no answer to that. Eventually, she nodded, not able to hide her shock.

"Enrico covers us up, but a bullet wound is next to impossible to explain. We were lucky the last four years. If Anderson finds out about this, we're both dead in the water, okay?"

Vicky nodded again. They left the room, exchanged a few friendly words with the tired receptionist and then went on their way. When the night club came in sight, its name shining over the door in blue and violet, Vicky felt another flutter, this time so strong she thought her legs wouldn't carry her. Get yourself together! You want to be a paladin someday, so don't screw up your first mission!

They quickened their steps. The night air was icy. Vicky tried to look as relaxed as one could be on a night out. They didn't stop before entering the Night Crawler. Just one step and they were in the middle of a raging battle.

Or rather a party, which was really not that different. The room was packed, hot and smelled of perfume, sweat, and alcohol. Vicky looked around uncomfortably until she spotted the vampire from before lingering at the bar, a drink in hand that certainly didn't look like alcohol. There were around four dozen people in the small room, the majority girls in light dresses. Hammering techno music and shouts drowned out any useful sound.

Heinkel nudged her and pointed into a different direction. A man in a white suit stood there, his back turned to them, chatting with a pretty, but heavily drunk woman. For a second Vicky had the weird impression their chief had chosen to get involved personally. The man's blond hair reached down to his buttocks. But of course the chief would never wear such a fashion (was that a fashion?) In the height of his waist the hair was bound with a creme-colored bow. How did that hold in the first place? That got to be the other Valentine, Luke. Vicky swallowed and nodded.

Her teacher gave her an encouraging nod and then went over to the bar. However she chose to get the vampire into a conversation, she would be occupied for a while. Vicky had to manage alone for now. So she took another deep breath – not a good idea. The air seemed to be sticky itself and made her dizzy. She would need a shower after this.

Vicky made her way through the crowd. How should she approach the vampire without arising suspicion? She wished she had a weapon, but except a pocket knife and her close-combat skills she was unarmed. Which, for itself, wasn't half bad if it would be a human enemy. Dancing people pushed her around without noticing. She could see a young woman in a shirt exposing only her pierced belly button drawing away a man. She buried her face in his neck. His face was a mask of pleasure and ecstasy. He didn't even seem to notice when she bit him. Great, more vampires.

Vicky reached the end of the dance floor. Now that her eyes were used to the weird lighting, she was able to make out at least a dozen vampires, most of them women dressed like, well, professionals. Vicky couldn't help a shiver.

Her teacher was leaning on the bar, a drink in hand, talking to the vampire in the black jogging suit. She somehow managed to look coquettish and sweet while ignoring his no doubt obscene remarks and predatory grin. Vicky tripped over a stair and would have gone down if she hadn't hit someone, who caught her in the last moment. When she looked up, she saw the vampire with the long hair. Behind round spectacles on the tip of his nose, green eyes looked down on her in amusement. He didn't look like his brother at all, especially with the light skin he had. Then again, the director didn't look like his sister either.

"Well, hello, young lady," he said. "All alone here and not even a drink at hand?" He had to shout to be heard over the noise. Still, Vicky couldn't help thinking he was somewhat arrogant.

"I'm with my sister," she shouted back. "We just arrived." After a moment's hesitation she added: "Hannah went off to somewhere, though. I'm bored. Does this club have anything interesting?"

"Am I not interesting for a pretty girl like you?", the vampire asked with a frown. Vicky allowed herself a mocking smile.

"We'll see. What's your name, charmer?"

"Luke Valentine. And yours?"

"Vanessa Pratt." She took his arm and her led her away from the dance floor to the stairs. Upstairs, there was the sofa Jan had slept on, now with a bucket of ice and a bottle champagne next to it. He sat down with her and poured them a glass while Vicky tried not to show her discomfort.

"You're not going out often, are you?", he asked with a smile. Vicky pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and laughed uncomfortably.

"No... not really. As I said, my sis brought me here. We don't see each other that often."

"How come? Sisters should stick together. Where is she, by the way? Can you see her?"

Vicky scanned the crowd. From up here you really had a good overview. Heinkel was still talking with Jan Valentine. She pretended to take a sip from her glass. At least Vicky guessed that she would not drink anything of it. That was one of the rules she had been taught: Don't eat or drink anything you don't know. When the vampire turned away, she poured most of it over the bar in the sink. Neither the bartender nor the vampire noticed. Vicky let her gaze wander for a while, not focusing on anyone, until she found a dark haired, already heavily drunk girl her age that seemed to be civilian. "There she is. That's my sister."

Luke nodded and pointed at the vampire at the bar. "That's Jan, my younger brother."

"Pretty exclusive up here, isn't it?", Vicky asked, looking around as if she was there for the first time. Somebody had more or less cleaned up the mess from before. Still, she would have preferred not sitting on this sofa. But Luke in his white suit didn't seem to be troubled.

"Well, that's the advantage of having an own club."

Vicky made big eyes. "That's your club? Wow, I had no idea. Well, then I'm in best company today."

Luke handed her a flute of champagne and laid an arm around her. "Of course you are. But tell me, why did you say you don't see each other often?"

Vicky sighed as if she had to tell that story for the hundredth time. "Our parents got divorced when I was a kid and Hannah a teenager. She stayed here in the US and Mum took me to Italy. I get to go over every summer holidays but that's about it. Now I finished school and I'm staying with them for a few weeks. Maybe I'll stay in the US. I still got the citizenship. It's not that my Mum is super interested in me."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but... It would be wonderful seeing you more often."

Vicky would have pulled a face but didn't dare to. What the hell? "Maybe. Tell me, Luke, what is it like to have a club like this? That must be exhausting, being up all night."

"Ah, you know, we're night owls. Always were. It's not that bad. We get to have fun, meet great people," he nodded at her, "and it makes a living."

"Sounds interesting. No girl at your side, then?"

He grinned. "Except for you, none. Might change, though." Vicky thought it appropriate to giggle. Luke leaned back and watched the crowd. "Astounding start. You know, my brother and I are... not from a good household, if you know what I mean. We ran away when I was sixteen and Jan was fifteen. Lived on the streets, got through with little frauds and all." He caught her gaze. "I'm not saying I'm proud of that. We had the choice: Eat or get eaten. Cheat or die of starvation."

She nodded. "I see. How did you get that club then?"

Luke seemed nostalgic. Either he was making up this sentimental pile of bullshit or he didn't see her as a threat. He had no reason to, for obvious reasons. "We found someone. Or rather got found by someone. His name is Max. Nobody in whose way you want to get. But he gave us a new life and... well this. We're still paying of course, but the agreement is as simple as great. He's got a vision of a better society."

Vicky had trouble to keep a straight face. He wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was just a farce. He had a plan and she wanted to know what.

"Are you uncomfortable, dear Vanessa?"

She winced. _Damn._ "Uh... actually, I'm a bit embarrassed to ask, but... the club has a certain reputation. My sis and I are kinda making a test of courage. Of course, the rumors are totally stupid, I mean, who believes in monsters these days?" She laughed nervously. "Vampires and stuff."

Luke smiled. "Well, I wouldn't say that." His fangs flashed. Vicky was still trying to decide how she should react, when his smile faltered. She turned around to see a tall, muscular man approach. No, she was wrong, it was a woman, not a man. When the shadows no longer concealed her body shape, the short hair couldn't deny her womanhood. She wore an outfit similar to Heinkel's with boots and a jacket over a top, but the trousers looked like they belonged to a uniform and were far too big for her. They were held in place by a belt. The right side of her face was contorted somehow, and covered in tattoos of letters and a mystic symbol. Her eye was next to black and lifeless. The other one was glowing green, even in the colorful club lights.

"Zorin, my friend," Luke tried to be friendly. He let go of Vicky and stood up. "What are you doing here?" The woman shot Vicky a glare that made her skin crawl for some reason and talked to Luke for about a minute. Then she turned around and stomped away, directly to the other Valentine who was still talking to Heinkel.

"Who was that?", Vicky asked innocently when the vampire sat back down. She had a horrible feeling. Like their cover had been blown. Had she done something wrong? No way.

"Oh, just an acquaintance. She works for Max. Don't worry. Where were we?"

"You wanted to tell me about those vampire rumors."

He grinned. "Of course. Would you like to be immortal? I mean, it's great, right?"

Vicky thought about it for a moment. "Well, yes. That really sounds great. Never aging, never dying. You got to have fun without worrying about wasted time."  
"Would you like to see?"

Vicky smiled enthusiastically. "Yes!", she almost squealed, clapping her hands. Luke stood up.

"Then we should get to a more private location, don't you think?" Vicky nodded happily and followed him to the door.

_Don't ever, under no circumstances, accompany them anywhere without telling me._

She didn't have an awful lot of choices, right? Refusing would only arouse suspicions. She still wasn't sure what the tattooed woman had wanted. Whatever it was, she belonged to Millennium and could become a problem. "It won't take long, right?", she asked.

"That is up to you." She didn't like the sound of this but what choice did she have but to play along? She looked a last time at the dancing floor below and met her teacher's glare. At least she had the feeling Heinkel looked at her. And she didn't seem happy. Crap.

"Are you coming?" Vicky hastily turned away and followed Luke through the door. He had flicked a light switch. Most of the doors weren't even closed, and an occasional moan or scream was audible. And not all sounded like sounds of pleasure. Luke opened the last door on the left.

The room was small, with only a chair, a bar and a huge bed coated in red sheets. There was no window. Vicky entered and Luke shut the door. Relieved, she noticed he didn't lock up.

She looked around a bit more, checking for possible weapons and trying to seem curious rather than nervous. Her teacher would kill her. Quite right, too.

Luke brushed a strand of hair from her neck.

"A vampire never dies, never ages, never gets sick. All you need is a refuge, and blood."

"Sounds messy," Vicky joked nervously.

He gently opened her jacket. "It's a tiny price compared to what you get. Drinking blood is... wonderful. Imagine the best food you ever ate and combine it with almost... sexual pleasure. And that every time."

She took a step back. "That sounds great. But it would be... mean not to share that right?"

He followed her and took her hands. "Most don't understand what it means. That it is not evil."

"Except for damning your soul to hell," Vicky slipped. A look of disapproval crossed his face, then vanished. Vicky carefully let go. "Listen, I... appreciate this. Just give me a minute, I need to powder my nose."

"That's not necessary." His hand closed like steel around her arm.

"Ow!", she protested. "Do you want my sister to storm in in the middle of action? Because that happens when she remembers she's not alone here. It was fucking embarrassing last time. I'll be right back."

"Ah, of course. No problem." He let her go and she retreated to the door. The rage in his eyes said something very different from his words. Their cover was blown. Somehow, she had managed to screw it up. Her teacher would be so pissed. So much for going on another mission after this. All Vicky could hope for was teacher didn't tell Director Maxwell about her failure. She opened the door and closed it quietly. Soundproof rooms, for fuck's sake. She ran.

Just before reaching the door to the actual club, somebody grabbed her and she spun around, barely suppressing a scream. "What the fuck were you thinking?!", Heinkel hissed at her. "I told you not to go anywhere alone!" Vicky was so relieved that she didn't have an answer for a moment. Eventually, she managed: "Our cover is blown."

"I know. That woman. Let's get our weapons before the shit hits the fan." Heinkel dragged her to the door and they entered the club. The crowd had grown smaller all of a sudden. Some of the civilians had left. _They don't want any witnesses._

They casually strolled to the bathroom. When the door closed, the music was cut off with a pang. Heinkel didn't bother to lock the door. A vampire could easily get in anyway. With Vicky standing there like a beat puppy, she retrieved the package with their weapons. Not a splash of water on them. Vicky hesitatingly got her weapons and began putting on the belt. Just like her teacher, she preferred holsters strapped to a belt and her thighs.

"Never do that again," Heinkel said plainly.

They didn't have time to argue, but Vicky tried to defend herself nevertheless. "I didn't have a choice, I thought I might get out what-" She caught a gray-green glare and broke off, staring at her feet. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry, say you'll never do it again."

"I'll never do it again."

"Good." The straps were fastened with a satisfying _click_. Vicky eyed her teacher, wondering what she had to do to become such a good paladin one day. A paladin, who now ruffled her hair until the blond strands fell in her face again. The holsters and guns were almost invisible against the black fabric she wore. She could be a secret agent in a movie. But of course she wasn't. She was a lot cooler than that.

"The moment we step out of here, we're going to be surrounded," Heinkel remarked casually. "So be ready."

Vicky snapped out of her thoughts. "Why aren't they attacking?"

"They have superior numbers and we have only one possibility to get out. There's no need to rush."

Heinkel saw Vicky's sullen face and chuckled. "They don't know who they're up against. The two of us are more than enough to take them out. Just don't take a bullet, okay?"

Vicky nodded and checked her spare clips. Around fifteen vampires, the Valentines included. That should be enough ammo to take out twice as many enemies if she was a good shooter. Besides, her teacher was there as well. No need to worry.

"Shoot at everything that moves. Except for me, please." Vicky gulped and smiled shakily. It was time. Her first fight. She had trained for this. So she wouldn't be one of those who didn't survive their first mission. A student of Iscariot's wolf wouldn't be such a disgrace.

"Ready?" They moved to the door, Vicky behind her teacher.

"Yes."

Heinkel swung open the door. For a second there was nothing. Then the air seemed to explode in a hail of bullets. They shattered the tiled wall behind them, the stalls, the toilets. Dirty water spilled on the equally dirty floor. The two women pressed themselves against the wall right next to the door, the bullets flying past them without actually hitting.

"OKAY, OKAY, STOP IT FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" That was the voice of the younger Valentine. The fire finally ceased. Vicky's ears were ringing. All she heard was the _thud-thud-thud_ of her hammering heart. "They're mincemeat by now. No need to waste ammo."

"Shut up, you idiot. You think they waited in the door frame? Iscariot's agents aren't that stupid." The older Valentine. _How did they know we were Iscariots?_

"We know you're there, so come out, you sweet little birds," the younger brother mocked them. "Or we have to come in and get you. Then you're fucked in more than the one sense I'm planning."

Vicky was too tense to pay attention to his words, despite one part of her shivering in disgust.

A short tapping on her arm told her it was time. Her teacher jumped out of their cover, rolled over the floor and opened fire. With her Desert Eagles she should have a disadvantage against the automatic rifles, but the vampires had not anticipated an attack. At least half a dozen fell in these first few seconds. Then Vicky was too busy to continue watching, jumping, rolling, covering the opposite direction and trying to manage clean head shots like she had trained.

Her quota was not as good, but she managed to take out a few vampires, before they even thought of returning fire. Until then, she had fled behind the bar and the bullets didn't reach her. The mirror above her shattered and splinters rained down on her. Hopefully, she didn't get cut. In this barn she'd probably get tetanus. _And how should we explain that to Father Anderson?_

Someone shrieked in pain. That sounded like the younger Valentine, judging from the curses that followed. Vicky would have liked to know what had happened. It was silent except for him. The fire had stopped. Vicky wondered if her teacher was okay. Hopefully. How many enemies were left? A dozen? More?

"Vell, vat have ve here?" She felt a hand on her shoulder and wanted to spin around, but her body didn't obey her anymore. Pictures flooded her mind, the vampire was doing something to her, if she didn't fight, she would die. She struggled with all she had and couldn't do anything. Her vision went black. Teacher! _Help me..._

* * *

_Florence, Italy, 2011_

Vicky was woken when she heard her parents scream. She was out of bed in a split second, barely staying on her feet dizzy as she was. It had suddenly gone quiet again, but it was a dreadful silence that scared her more than she wanted to admit. She didn't like this house, she didn't like Italy as a whole, even after four years. They should have just stayed in the US like Mum wanted to. But Dad wanted to go back to his beloved Italy and she followed him. First Rome, now, only three days ago, they had come here, farther in the north and again without anyone Vicky knew.

Some part of her hated them for it.

There was a metallic smell in the air and weird noises, as if somebody was eating loudly. Vicky carefully opened the door and sneaked down the corridor. Lacking any better occupation, by now she knew perfectly well which parts of the floor creaked and which didn't. The noises were coming from the living room. Vicky felt sick because of the stink. Mum and Dad always were so tidy, she couldn't imagine they had left food to spoil, but that was how it smelled like.

The door to the living room stood ajar. Vicky noiselessly slipped inside and got down on all fours. She couldn't be seen, because the back of the sofa was faced to the door. She crawled to the edge and peeked around. The next moment she wished she hadn't.

Her parents were lying in a pool of blood. There were men, two of them, and a woman, bent over them and drinking their blood. Vicky jerked back like having been slapped and pressed her hand on her mouth to keep in any sound. She couldn't even whimper, despite having to vomit badly.

She didn't dare to move anymore. What if they heard her? But she couldn't stay either. So she carefully tried to crawl back to the door, but it slammed in a gust of wind. Vicky couldn't suppress a startled squeak. She froze, her whole body trembling, tasting salt on her face.

"What was that?", the woman asked. She spoke Italian.

"Forget about it. The wind. Let's get going before we get busted." The man had a rough voice, unlike the one that answered him.

"But first let's finish off these. Their blood is way too delicious to leave behind."

"You're a glutton, Massimo! Now hurry up." The noises continued. The woman laughed. She had a shrill laugh. Vicky thought she would have to vomit or would just pass out if she had to listen to this any longer. But after a while they stopped. The window was opened. There was a swoosh, and another one, and a third one. Then it was silent.

Vicky managed to get out of her paralysis. She shakily got to her feet. Her parents were lying there, their throats ripped open. Most of the blood was gone. Vicky had to hold on to the armrests of the sofa to stand. She made a step forward, and another one. She didn't know what she would do once she had reached them.

Then her father stirred and got up. Her mother did, too, and wanted to grab her.

Vicky screamed and fell on her buttocks. Her parents stumbled towards her. Their fingernails had turned into claws and teeth to fangs. The torn flesh looked gray. Vicky stared into their glowing red eyes, unable to move. And the worst thing, in the groans she thought to hear her own name.

"Vi-cky... Dar-ling..."

She couldn't stand up, her legs wouldn't carry her, but she crawled back. "Go away! Don't touch me!", she shrieked. The hands were extended towards her, to seize her, to eat her, to make her like they were. Then a bullet took off one of the clawed hands. There was little blood left to be spilled, only flesh to splatter in all directions. Vicky could see the bones of the wrist.

Somebody came through the window, a man in a long black coat. She got to her feet and ran.

"Hey, wait!", the man called after her. There was a curse and more shots. Two shots. Then it was silent. Vicky didn't pay attention. She ran as if the devil himself was after her. Out of the living room, down the hallway, out of the flat, then the house. She sprinted along the next to silent road, only lighted by the occasional lantern. Some people on a late night stroll looked after her in confusion. A young girl, just a child, in pajamas shouldn't run around in the middle of the night alone.

She was found, taken to the police, who didn't believe one word, she came into an orphanage, where she was labeled traumatized and hallucinating, then went to court where she didn't even try to tell the truth anymore. Her aunt in the US didn't want to take her in. She would stay in Italy. She was brought to their flat to pack a few things and told her parents were missing. Then they drove for a long time and she was in Ferdinant Luke's. Nobody believed her. Except...

* * *

_Minneapolis, Minnesota, September 18th, 2016_

"Vicky!" She hit the floor. Hard. It brought her back to her senses. _Except Heinkel. For her it was no big deal. The Iscariots are used to this._ Vicky scrambled up, just to see the vampire woman catch a few bullets. She was thrown against the shattered mirror, but got back up, bleeding and enraged. "Zis is not over yet!", she spat, before leaping over the bar and leaving the club in a haste. Vicky was dragged to her feet, her guns miraculously still in hand.

"Get going!", her teacher barked before leaping in the middle of the enemies, which was something nobody should ever do, according to her. Vicky exchanged the clips, just to be sure, and ran around the bar. The majority of the vampires was down or occupied. But Luke Valentine had a gun and Heinkel would be too busy to dodge or even notice before it was too late. He had a bullet wound in his face that should have taken his head off.

Vicky would have liked to help her teacher fight those masses of the undead, but the leaders were more important, right?

"Leave her alive!", Jan Valentine barked. He had dragged himself to a chair, slumping there doubled over his bleeding groin. Served him just fine, in Vicky's eyes. "Bitch shot my dick. I'm gonna show her what it can do once I'm healed." They were stronger than normal vampires. She needed a better plan.

Vicky stashed away her guns. She wasn't sure why there was a sword hanging here except for decorative purposes. She certainly hadn't seen it before. It wasn't even sharp. But it was heavy and the momentum took Luke's head right off. Blood splattered on Vicky's face. She spat it out. How disgusting.

Jan jumped up in alarm. "FUCK! YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Then he got another bullet to the groin and one in the head. The head shot didn't go through, but it rendered him almost unconscious. He lay on the floor, groaning. Vicky dropped the sword when someone stopped next to her. Heinkel was out of breath, but seemingly unharmed.

"Not bad. Where did you get that?", she asked.

"It lay around," she said absently. She turned around. The vampires were done for. As she watched, Heinkel almost casually shot one that tried to get up. Next to two dozen enemies in total.  
"The woman could flee," Vicky said quietly. "I'm sorry." She still didn't know what had happened, why she had seen the death of her parents again.

"Not your fault. That bitch has some special powers. Keep everything in mind, the chief needs to hear about it. He probably knows what to make of it."

"I won't forget anything," Vicky said. Heinkel shot her a curious glance, but didn't ask. Vicky wiped her eyes. Her face was sticky with blood. "Can we end this now?"

"Sure. Go ahead. Every newcomer should make one significant kill on his first mission."

Vicky almost said she already killed the other one, but didn't in the end. She put a bullet in the vampire's head and that was it.

The club was a mess. Somebody had shut off the music. Vicky noticed it just now. Heinkel went over to the sound system and turned it up at next to full volume. The noise was painful, even after the not exactly quiet fight. Then she grabbed their coats. They hadn't got a scratch or splash of blood. It was ridiculous. Their weapons vanished under the long fabric. Heinkel gave Vicky a handkerchief.

It was a relief to leave the stuffy, hot club. The night air cooled down the blood on Vicky's face rapidly. Unfortunately, they ran directly into a nearly hysteric taxi driver.

"The hell is going on in there?", he asked. "Does somebody have a gun there?!" For a second Vicky's mind was blank in panic. Then she put on her best American accent – she had lost most of it in the five years in Italy – and snapped: "If I find that asshole, I swear to God I won't rest until he got his ass kicked!" She put the handkerchief on her face, pretending to cry. "If my nose is broken, i swear to you-"

The taxi driver went up to them. It was a middle-aged, balding man who obviously liked pizza too much. But he seemed genuinely concerned. "Can I help you, Miss? What happened?"

Vicky looked up sharply. "Some asshole tripped me down the stairs for fun," she spat. "Did you see him?"

The taxi driver thought about it for a moment. "There was a man running out a few minutes ago. Seemed to be in a hurry. That direction." He pointed down the street. "He was limping. What is going on in there?"

Vicky shrugged her shoulders in a huff. "Just some crazy stoner party. I certainly won't come here again."

"You're not from here?", he asked, just to make conversation. He was calming down. If they weren't too frightened, there was probably nothing to be concerned about.

"Nah, upstate New York."

"Nessi, we gotta go," Heinkel fell in. Vicky shrugged.

"Can I take you girls somewhere? To hospital maybe?"

"No thanks, we're staying with friends right around the corner," Vicky said friendly.

"You don't happen to know if someone in there ordered a taxi?", the man asked. He seemed to have had a bad night already.

"Not really. But hey, here. For being so nice." Vicky passed him a ten dollar bill. The man thanked them in surprise, but they had already wandered off, down the street. Once they were around the corner, Vicky scrubbed away the drying blood.

"I gotta say, that was a great job," Heinkel said suddenly. Vicky couldn't fight an enthusiastic smile.

"I didn't screw it up?"

"Not at all. You handled it like a pro. I'll certainly tell 'Rico about it. Though you still gotta learn to obey orders." She didn't seem angry, which was a big relief.

Vicky blushed and looked away. They continued to walk in silence, just two girls in the crowd of late-night strollers. An astoundingly large group for a Sunday night, Vicky wondered.

Her first mission was over. She was still alive, and unhurt, and had made a significant kill. Her teacher had said she had done a good job. So maybe the chief would be proud of her too when she brought him information about Millennium's vampires.

The beasts that had killed her parents were still out there. Should they enjoy their unlives as long as they could. Once she was a paladin, she would hunt them down. She would get the revenge she deserved. And nobody would be able to stop her.


	16. Devil's dance

Thanks to catsvsdogscatswin and kinigget for reviewing. I'm always happy to get feedback.

* * *

**Chapter 15: Devil's Dance**

_Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, September 18th, 2016_

Seras almost fell to her knees when she tripped over one of the seemingly endless stairs. She stopped, panting, pressing her hands on her sides. Three hundred and twenty seven fucking steps and she still wasn't on top of the damned hotel. She had always considered herself to be fairly fit, but this beat any workout. She leaned on the handrail of the fire escape, trying to ease the burning of her lungs. Only two flights left. Not more than twenty stairs.

How was she supposed to help Lady Vladimira – Mira – anyway? The vampire was literally the last person that might need help in her eyes. Seras had only a handgun, which was not exactly helpful against such an enemy as -

Something on the rooftop exploded. Rubble rained down on her, including chunks big enough to make her think a whole small house might have been exterminated up there.

Her legs seemed too heavy to move, but she hurried upwards again. Hopefully Pip soon got the helicopter. Had she known they would face some crazy Nazi vampire army, she would have never talked him into this. But cash was cash and it seemed like a special betrayal to leave Lady Caitlyn alone in this situation.

The rooftop was clouded in dust. Impossible to see something. Seras was pushed from behind and fell, avoiding razor-sharp cards by inches. She hurried to a concrete wall that seemed to provide at least some kind of cover. Somebody had placed a rifle there with a full cartridge belt already put in. Seras peeked around the wall, but saw only a blur of dust and smoke. There! She pulled the trigger. It was hard enough to hold the muzzle in the right direction, let alone hit something. They were moving too damn fast! Up to now Mira didn't seem to need help anyway.

The crossfire seemed to accomplish at least something. She heard Alhambra curse.

"What'z going on up zere?" Pip's voice on the radio was almost drowned out by the noise of the battle and something on his end of the line. "Should I pick you up?"

"No. If you get here now, the helicopter will get hit."

"But you're alright, oui?"

Seras cursed. "Not now, okay?" The rifle sprayed its deadly gifts all over the rooftop, but it didn't seem like she hit anything. She couldn't even see the enemy, let alone the woman she was supposed to protect. "Stupid little bitch!" The next moment a card burrowed into the concrete and exploded. Seras screamed.

She lay on the ground, showered in dust and with ringing ears. She got up, half expecting at least one limb to be gone. But for some reason she seemed completely unhurt. _Stay here. I will take care of him._ The voice sounded like an echo in a tomb. The ringing in her ears drowned out every other sound, but the voice was completely clear. Seras shakily got to her knees. A dark, almost ebony-colored arm set down the biggest portable grenade launcher she had ever seen. How could anyone even carry that? Despite barely hearing her own voice, Seras looked up to thank the mysterious helper. Her jaw dropped.

Lady Vladimira's coffin got down on four of its eight... arms? Legs? Two of the free leg-arms aimed the grenade launcher, while one held a machine gun and the fourth a cigarette. Wasn't that Pip's brand? So there they had gone. On the coffin lid the scripture had been replaced by a huge red eye with two vertical rows of smaller eyes under it.

_You would do good to get out of the way_, the coffin told her. _My master has ordered me to assure your safety._ Seras just nodded. She couldn't move. That red eye stared at her for a moment before focusing on the battle again.

In the end everything went down really fast. The grenade didn't hit Alhambra. He cut it right through and the explosion only ripped through the concrete of the roof. But he had stopped, standing in the middle of the smoke, now visible even for a human. He was afraid. Right to. The shadow behind him didn't make a sound.

"Seras?", Pip asked, probably not for the first time. The ringing in her ears slowly started to fade. Maybe it wasn't that bad after all. "What'z happening?"

This time Alhambra wasn't fast enough. The shattering of his knee was loud enough to be heard in the sudden silence after the battle. He gasped.

"Now squeal like a pig," Lady Vladimira said. Her voice was soft like a mother's. It sent an icy shiver down Seras' back.  
"They're... they're still fighting," she managed. "I think you can start now."

"Good. Because we don't 'ave an awful lot of time."

A hand was placed upon her head. She spun and froze, seeing it was the coffin. The same instant there was a shrill screeching that could only come from a living nightmare. Seras didn't move, couldn't even answer the increasingly worrying Pip. So that was what Lady Caitlyn meant with "off camera". The smell of blood was sickening. What would Lady Hellsing want to hear? Definitely not those details.

"Checkmate, Dandy," Lady Vladimira purred. "Now fulfill your arrangement with me. Allow me to complete my mission." The other vampire only whimpered, but that was enough answer. "You'll tell me everything. With your life."

A ripping sound and a new wave of blood-stench. "SERAS?!"

"I'm fine."

"Whew. Why didn't you answer?"

"It's okay." She could hear the helicopter approaching now and Pip giving commands to the pilot.

There was a loud hiss. Seras couldn't help but turn around. The man calling himself Dandy had burst into flames, the remains falling to pieces and then to ash. And Lady Vladimira was standing there, clapping like she had just seen the best show of her life. The last cards fluttered to the ground.

That moment, the CNN helicopter touched down on the rooftop, the rotor spraying the cards and ash in all directions until nothing was left.

"What about the coffin?", Lady Vladimira asked. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth, but otherwise she looked... normal. That somehow seemed the worst part of it all. Seras hastily turned around, but the coffin was gone. She ran over to Pip, who immediately checked her on severe injuries before turning to the vampire. "Lady – Mira, I mean. 'urry up, we're short on time!"

Behind the mercenary's back the coffin, her invaluable and eternal companion, climbed into the helicopter, making the unfortunate pilot doubt his sanity. Then the coffin threw away the rest of his cigarette and returned to his usual state, until he would be needed again.

Mira smiled, her eyes focused on the bright moon. Down on the plaza, the ambulances treated the injured, removed the dead. It was finally time for war again.

"Killing off our enemies, our allies, those we should protect, nations we should rule, even ourselves, but it's still not enough," she said, smiling. "Your lot and I are incorrigible warmongers, aren't we, Major?"

* * *

_Vatican City, September 18th, 2016_

"Even now that day has dawned, it still looks like a battlefield here in front of the hotel Rio as well as within the perimeter hospital camp. 107 are dead and 64 were wounded in this large scale incident. There is still no knowledge of the whereabouts of the principal offenders. A hijacked CNN news helicopter was utilized in their escape. It was abandoned on the outskirts of the city, but by the time of its discovery it was deserted. The pilot was discovered standing in a nearby field, in a state of shock. Mysteriously, the pilot has no recollection whatsoever of the incident. He isn't even able to comprehend what he was doing in such a place. Authorities are proceeding with an investigation to determine whether the criminals used some drugs on the pilot to manipulate his memory. Despite the concerted effort of each branch of the police force, the whereabouts of the criminals remains a complete mystery. This is -"

The voice was cut off when the screen went black. Bishop Reinhardt Cornelius needed a moment to turn around on his chair when he heard the door. Enrico Maxwell looked impeccable like always, carrying his coat over one arm and a briefcase. His injured hand still seemed to hurt, judging from how he avoided using it. Served him just right. The little bastard. Quite literally. Too bad this wasn't the past centuries anymore. In these times, a bastard child would never have come to such power.

Maxwell bowed in front of the Holy Father. "Excuse me for being late, Your Holiness." He only shot Cornelius a short glance, who had trouble not to snarl in disgust.

Unbelievable, but the Holy Father didn't even admonish the little prick.

"How was Scotland?", he asked instead and motioned to another chair next to Cornelius.

"Windy," Maxwell answered. The Pope chuckled. "That it is. Kenzy was a good woman. She deserves the peace."

"Indeed, Your Holiness."

"What about Anderson? I hear he is on the way to South America?"

Oh, was he? Cornelius suppressed a grin. It was not a secret that Anderson was not the most obedient agent they had. How unfortunate. For Maxwell. "So this incident at the hotel Rio could have easily avoided?", Cornelius asked as innocently as possible.

Maxwell didn't show any signs of nervousness yet. "I ordered him not to step in." He was lying, Cornelius just knew it. Maxwell hadn't known this would happen before the news showed it. Section VIII was making sure of that. "The majority of the residents there are Catholic."

"The victims were news reporters, which are mostly heathens."

"Now, now, don't get into such a discussion," the Pope interrupted. "Millennium has chosen to reveal themselves to Hellsing. We have seen what her monster is capable of. How prepared is Iscariot as the specialists to face this threat?"

Maxwell hesitated, just for the blink of an eye. He kept something to himself. Something important. How about getting out what and showing the Holy Father who he could really trust?

"I have confidence in my subordinates' abilities. Also, Anderson will no doubt be able to defeat the vampires when it comes to it."

The Holy Father had to ask a few more questions. How strong was Iscariot? Did they have all necessary information (they couldn't, because Cornelius did and he would be damned if he would hand it over to this brat without a direct order)? But no, the Holy Father seemed to set his full trust in this joke of a bishop. How the hell was that even possible? This bastard child of a Catholic cardinal, already damned to hell, with his ridiculously long blond hair (which could impossibly be natural with the dark skin he had) and the carefully pronounced Canadian accent. He was twenty-seven for God's sake! At this age he deserved to be a priest in some remote backwards village!

"The British have initiated a conference to discuss further cooperation. Their pet monster is still stuck in Rio de Janeiro, though. Unfortunately we need the information the vampire possesses just as much as they do, so we will send a private jet to bring them to the conference on the 20th. Will it be possible for Anderson to bring them the documents for the jet?"

"Of -"

"I have a question, if you allow, Your Holiness," Cornelius cut Maxwell off. "Are we sure that this will not end in another uproar? Excuse me if I seem rude, I do value Father Anderson's services like everyone else, but he seems a bit... uncontrollable at times."

Maxwell could glare all he wanted. Reinhardt Cornelius had never felt better, despite his aching foot. The moment he stepped out of here, he could enjoy one of the prescribed pills again. Thank God. For now it was enough seeing Maxwell in a tight spot.

"That might be, but -"

"The Badrick incident brought us in a situation where the Vatican had to apologize. As far as I remember, the order to move came from you, Your Excellence Bishop Maxwell. And here:"

He opened a small notebook he had brought. His specialists had had no trouble getting the surveillance video. It showed Maxwell and Lady Hellsing talking, getting more upset, then the vampire stepping onto the scene, threatening Maxwell who unsuccessfully tried to play it cool. Then Anderson appeared and everything went to hell. It was amusing how futile Maxwell's attempt at stopping the paladin looked. However they had gotten the two not to fight after all was a mystery, but none Cornelius cared about. The video ended and he closed the notebook. Delighted, he saw how pale Maxwell had gone all of a sudden.

The Holy Father didn't say anything yet. So Cornelius went on. "Don't you think it would be dangerous to send Anderson directly to the vampire?"

Maxwell's voice was slightly rough. "I admit, this incident was unfortunate. Anderson took his bodyguard duty a bit too far." Having seen the grin on the paladin's face while he confronted the vampire made this statement look ridiculous.

"Maybe you're right about that. For sure he had just the best intentions. But didn't you have another bodyguard with you? Ah, right. Your sister became a paladin a short time ago. My congratulations."

"I'll tell her. Thank you," the younger bishop said sternly.

"She is probably searching for an own... domicile? It's lovely how you have shared your own home with her for so long, but it has to get a bit... tight after a while?" The green eyes flashed at him in barely concealed anger. Cornelius smiled charmingly. "Then again, brother and sister are supposed to be close, right? That is what family is for." Not even an idiot could miss the implications. How would Maxwell react? He couldn't say they had no intention of separating. Of course the lone thought of their relationship was ridiculous. They were not even blood-related, so at least there would only be his vow to consider. And what meant that to an Iscariot?

Siblings? Platonic love? That was a joke. Cornelius had had two younger sisters and both of them had been as happy as himself when he moved out at the age of 18.

"Actually, no and yes," Maxwell said. "I don't have a problem with sharing. We don't see each other that often otherwise. That's the little inconveniences our work brings. We can split the work and concentrate more on our duty to God." Cornelius was barely able to keep his jaw from dropping. The incest-spawn had just admitted to something everybody would declare a sin, even without any serious implications. And the Holy Father just didn't see it.

Once he himself was Pope this would change. If Maxwell was still alive then he would spend the rest of his pitiful existence as a village priest in the furthest corner of the world, while his beloved little sister stayed as far away from him as possible. As far as Pope Innocence XIV. (there had been a Pope Cornelius before, but that would show bad taste) would be concerned, Maxwell would never get to see his precious sister or anyone he held dear again.

The Pope interrupted them. By now it seemed like he was enjoying watching them argue.

"We have no choice but to run with this arrangement. We need to appear cooperative. Therefore, we need an agent used to diplomacy at this conference."

"Your Holiness, it would be an honor to represent us - " Cornelius broke off when the Holy Father shook his head. His proud smile faltered.

"Bishop Cornelius, your enthusiasm is noble and appreciated. But you are in no state for traveling and your Section needs you here." Cornelius was speechless for a moment. No. NO! This brat would not take this opportunity from him! If anyone went and it would not be him – fine. But not this little prick either!

"Your Holiness, I beg to differ. After the incident in London it is only logical to assume that the vampire might want to kill Father Maxwell. In such a situation it would be devastating to lose an important authority, right?" He had to force himself not to sound strained. The bright smile he flashed his colleague hurt his face. "Aside of that, after such a bad start we will be even more disadvantaged with a representative Lady Hellsing doesn't like." Why the hell was Maxwell smiling like that? This was not going according to plan at all.

"Your Excellence, your concern about my safety is an honor, but unnecessary." Grudgingly, Cornelius had to give him one thing: He was a good actor. He actually managed to make it sound like he meant what he said. "We Iscariots are used to difficulties and Lady Hellsing will be our best shot, if you excuse the phrase. She was decidedly open to a cooperation. Religion isn't a relevant matter to her." He grinned, which made him seem even younger than he was. This brat should be a bishop? That got to be a joke.

"Her position is not safe. The Round Table is decidedly against her. She was a 16 year old orphan when she stumbled into this mess called "Hellsing". She's insecure and easy to impress. As long as she thinks we are on her side, she will help us."

"And you think you can get her to do what we want?", Cornelius asked as friendly as he managed.

"Of course. She likes me. It will be only advantageous to give her this reassurance."

Cornelius had trouble not to stare at him. What did this brat think he was? The Mentalist? Admittedly, the girl was naive and not all too bright. A girl raised in an orphanage could not exactly expected to have any higher education. Or wits. She was a woman after all.

"Exactly," Maxwell said with another charming smile. He was the perfect match for the Hellsing girl. Another overexcited teenager with way too much power at his hands. "She thinks I'm her ally, seeing we 'worked' better together than she did with her fellow peers. Millennium will concentrate on her and her vampire. I'm afraid we are not more than a slight annoyance to them. Fair enough, let them believe that. The problem is that they must not know about it. But I'm sure I can handle this."

That little bastard! This was a plan like anyone could have made it, yet the Holy Father seemed pleased beyond reason.

"Of course it would be much easier if we had a little more information about what to expect. I left these matters in the hands of Section VIII. I assumed they were the specialists, but until now there have been few results. At least none that I received."

For a moment, just a few damned seconds, Cornelius lost control over himself. "At least I can handle my subordinates," he snapped. "This situation should be handled by professionals anyway, not some shady organization whose leader is -" _Damn._ "incapable."

Maxwell seemed unsure if he should offended or surprised. No doubt he was laughing inside.

"My dear friends," the Holy Father said softly. Cornelius felt a sudden chill. He cursed himself and even more Enrico Maxwell. The little rat had tricked him. He would pay for that.

"I know the relationship between your Sections has always been difficult, with the clashing interests and responsibilities. But if we want to solve this problem advantageously for us all -"

Why did he look at Maxwell like they had some personal agreement he, Cornelius, knew nothing about? The preparations were no secret. Almost every section was involved, otherwise such a large scale operation would not be possible. And Cornelius was determined to lead the assault. The Holy Father would not be naive enough to give such a position to a boy like Enrico Maxwell, right? Even from an objective point of view he was unfit for this. Unlike Cornelius, who had served the military to the ranks of a colonel, he had no practical experience.

But just to be sure, he needed to find a way to preempt any contestants. First of all this little bugger with his green pretty boy eyes and sissy ponytail.

Lost in thoughts he had not listened to the Holy Fathers speech, which probably only concerned the need to rely on and help each other. The usual bla bla. He would. As soon as Maxwell was in his grave (or in a remote village at the end of the world, alone, defeated, and broken) and the new Section XIII was working closely with his Section VIII.

"Thank you," the Holy Father eventually said gravely. "I trust you to do your best for our beloved God and Church."

"Of course, Your Holiness," Maxwell said. He stood up, bowed and picked up his briefcase. What was in there anyway? Cornelius got up as well, trying not to grimace about the pain not only in his ankle. He was not getting younger. If he wanted to achieve his goal, he might need to hurry up.

"Goodbye." Maxwell even waited for Cornelius, as if he wanted to help should it be necessary. The scheming little cunt.

The doors fell shut behind them and they walked down the corridor out of hearing range, all alone in the vast hallways. They stopped at the same time. Finally, no necessity to play nice anymore. No need to hide the mutual disgust. What was in that briefcase? Cornelius wondered again. Something interesting for sure. "Don't think you're so special," he snapped. "The Holy Father is not yet senile enough to make you anything more important than a gofer, Iscariot!"

"We'll see about that," Maxwell replied with the calm arrogance of someone who thought to know more than his opponent. Fine. That game was made for two.

"You're too young to even grasp the full concept of power," Cornelius said, noting contently his patronizing tone. "As long as you follow orders that's fine. And you can do that, right, Enrico? Good old Chiara beat that into you."

Maxwell took a step back, suddenly very pale under his tan. The smile had been wiped off his face for good. Cornelius grinned.

"Why so surprised? Did you think I wouldn't find out? The documents are not exactly top secret. A young woman, falling madly in love with a Catholic cardinal almost twice her age. They get a son, and what a cute boy. Then the cardinal finds out the girl is actually his cousin. Oops. Of course, he can not pursue this road now, never should have in the first place. The lone mother, heartbroken and stuck with a brat, turns to alcohol. Her only child, poor little Enrico, has to bear her violent outbursts. For sure he only wanted to please her, but you know how it is with alcoholics. Eventually, she gets sick of him and leaves him to the orphanage. What a sob story." He didn't give Maxwell time to say something. It didn't seem like he would be able to anyway.

"But wait, there's more. Of course righteous Father Anderson cannot let it pass, the new step-parents don't either. There is a trial, she gets persecuted, shortly before the boy is brought to Canada by his new parents. The bad get punished, the good rewarded, everybody's happy. Sweet, huh?"

Maxwell stared at him, completely speechless. His left eye twitched. In the reports had been a good photo of the bruise and deep scratch Chiara Maxwell's belt had left on the face of the seven-year-old. Such a wound left a scar, if only as a psychosomatic tic.

Maxwell closed his eyes for a moment. Oh, what a delight it would be seeing him close to tears or even crying. The humiliation, the defeat! Cornelius almost rubbed his hands in triumph.

But when Maxwell opened them again, they were burning with a hate so intense even an old hand like Cornelius was startled. But his voice was calm and steady. "That's the problem with you old men. You cling so much to the past, you miss your opportunities. The future doesn't wait for senile old men."

Cornelius didn't show how angry he was. This hadn't gone as well as he had planned. "Now that I reminded you of this certainly painful chapter of your life, I guess you can go home and cry in the arms of your precious little sister. Does she know about this? Or did you keep it secret?" He forced a derogatory smile on his face. "Of course not. You two are so close, right? Or your sweet Miss Hellsing. You like her so much after all."

At the mention of his sister Maxwell had merely looked annoyed. The rumors were so old and more or less "disproved" enough that not even Cornelius made the effort of warming them up over and over. Everybody knew the girl was just Maxwell's whore in the end. What else would he keep her for?

But Lady Hellsing? Now the little cunt seemed really surprised. Then he broke out laughing. It took a while until he had himself under control enough to speak, while Cornelius was silently fuming.

"Seriously?", he managed. "Caitlyn Hellsing? That's your trump card? I thought you'd be more creative. Do you actually think _anyone_ will believe that?" He grinned. "Then again, maybe you believe it yourself, which only proves I'm right. You're not fit to lead anything anymore if you wrap yourself in such phantasms. You're getting senile, old man."

Cornelius scowled, but had no choice but to take in his defeat. He had another appointment and not much more time to argue with this prick. He started for the doors, way too slow for his taste on the damn crutches. Maxwell followed him casually, as if they were just chatting on the way out.

Shortly before they reached the doors, Cornelius turned around again. "Be careful. Vermin gets exterminated one day or the other. A little rat like you will always land where it came from," he spat. Ignoring the confused faces of his bodyguards, who had opened the door and must have heard all of this, he stomped past them. Time to look into his relationship with Caitlyn Hellsing.

_He who controls the past controls the future. He who controls the present controls the past._

It didn't matter if something was true. Truth was what people believed to be true. And creating truth, that was what Reinhardt Cornelius was good at after all.

* * *

_A motel near Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, September 18th, 2016_

Mira had made herself comfortable on lid of her loyal coffin. He had done his duty well and she would think of a way to reward him. The mercenary girl too. For a human, she had stood her ground exceptionally well in the middle of the earthly pits of hell. She even tried to treat Mira no differently than before all of this had happened. Of course, she could not hide a certain discomfort that made her fiance increasingly worried. She would probably tell him all about it just now. They were out, getting something to eat. Mira was not offended by their nervousness. This was the fate of a monster, no, the sole purpose of creatures like her. Spreading terror was the goal of her life after all. With the little addition to serve Lady Hellsing.

The girl would make a wonderful draculina. How unfortunate that she was probably not a virgin anymore. Otherwise Mira would have discussed it with Walter. Not that he'd be very amenable to that idea, just like Lady Caitlyn.

The sun was shining brightly outside and the room was not even dim, despite the closed curtains. Mira would like to lie in her coffin and sleep for a while, at least until sundown. The light was getting on her nerves. But first she had to call her master and give her report. And she'd like to talk to Walter. He would be happy finally to settle some scores. They both longed for a big battle. And they would finally fight together again! The last time had been in World War II, seventy years ago. It was about time.

The line cracked, then there was the sound of an open line. The steady _toot, toot, toot_ went on for so long Mira almost thought nobody was home. But then the receiver was picked up and a sleepy Caitlyn asked: "Morris?"

So she was still calling herself by that name. Interesting. "Lady Hellsing, it's your servant."

A long yawn. "Ah. Great. Where are you now?"

"Some remote town called St. Rose or something, near Rio. I've completed my mission, master. What they're up to is now engraved in my brain."

She heard the rustling of covers. "Great," Caitlyn repeated. "You gotta be back for the 20th, which is... kinda overmorrow. Damn it." Her steps on the marble floor. Walter was obviously still sleeping. His dislike for sunlight was adorable, yet slightly pitiful for a vampire of his strength. Once again she wondered if it had been right to turn him that young, trapping him with his child's voice and body, but also stubborn mindset. Then again, what choice did she have? How likely would it have been that he had still been alive when she was freed? How likely that she would still have been able to turn him?

"Anyway, just get back as fast as possible. I need a formal report," Caitlyn interrupted her thoughts.

"Sounds like the Round Table turned up the heat."

A shrug. "Oh no, they're just giving me hell like always." She had stopped, probably somewhere on the corridor. Mira slightly tilted her head. Caitlyn sounded sad. No, that wasn't even it. Mira knew the edge in Caitlyn's voice very well, had known it since many centuries, since her own human life. She sounded very, very lonely.

"The queen called in a big meeting."

"The Queen?", Mira repeated with a grin. The young princess would always stay in her memory as one of the few that weren't the least scared of Arthur Hellsing's vampire. The fearless little princess, so similar to her own little princess if she had just grown up. It would be interesting to see what 70 years had changed. She snickered.

"Do us all a favor and don't let her wait. Section XIII will be there too." Was it just her imagination or did Lady Caitlyn sound almost wistful? Walter had mentioned it, but Mira had thought he exaggerated.

"Hoping Blondie will be there?", she asked. It wasn't her concern judging her master's taste in men, although she really couldn't exactly understand why Caitlyn would like the arrogant bishop. But a bit of mocking was always in the range of options. The girl could take it. She needed to be strong.

Caitlyn winced so much it was literally audible. "It's not important in diplomacy. I don't know who the Vatican will send. Just get here as fast as possible before the Round Table questions my capabilities again."

"Very well, my master. By the way... How did you like the joys of declaring war?"

"What?" For a moment Caitlyn just seemed to need a moment for figuring out what Mira was talking about in the first place. It was astounding. How could she possibly retain this innocence for so long?

"Did you feel your blood rush? Were you able to see the red flames of hell blazing?"

There was a pause. "I appreciate your sense of poetry." She sounded strained. "I told you to leave the civilians out of this."

"I did," Mira said. "As soon as I could. Alhambra was not exactly prone to following my commands, right?"

Another pause. "Alhambra? That was his name?"

"Yesss..." She stretched the word. Outside there were footsteps and a strong smell of grilled meat and whatever people ate these days. Pip and Seras were returning. "He gave us everything we need."

Pause. "Great." She didn't sound like she thought it was great. "I'll see you at the conference."

"Goodbye, master."

"Bye." The word was barely audible. Then the line was cut off. Mira stretched on her coffin. Humans were so wonderfully complex. She surely would talk to Seras about what had happened. After all she had experienced in her time at Hellsing, she still did not want to see the joy of war, the necessity of violence to defeat one's enemy.

The door was opened. "Lady Mira, we're back," Seras announced, hesitatingly, as if she awaited something to jump at her.

"Bon jour," Pip added, a brown and green paper bag in his arm. So they wanted to eat that? Then again, what had it been like in former Walachia? Bugs, filth and grimy meat, even for the royals. Some things did change after all. The two sat down and began to eat. Right, Mira remembered, they didn't have a rich buffet the last night. She had to grin about the thought.

"What about our return to Britain?"

"Not a chance, nope, c'est impossible. No ships are leaving for about a week," the Frenchman munched. "And ze schedule's already booked up. Bad idea anyway wiz zat luggage."

"Out of the question," Mira said. Lady Caitlyn would not be happy about this. But she would be a lot less happy if she didn't turn up at all. Aside of that, they weren't going to kill anyone.

_Oh look, am I getting a conscience all of a sudden?_ As long as considering Caitlyn's opinion and her adorably humane standards was a form of having a conscience.

"We're stealing an airplane." Pip started coughing, spilling sickly sweet liquid everywhere. Seras was speechless. But her fiance freaked out. "Non non non non non!", he screeched. "Dead dead dead dead dead, zis time we're dead! 'm gonna die, no zanks, not -"

Mira shut him up when she shot in a sitting position. There were heavy steps on the sidewalk in front of the motel. Steps whose pattern she recognized with a flutter in her chest she had not felt that strong in years. _I'm sorry Walter. It's not you, it's me._

"Get out," she told her two companions. The two exchanged a nervous glance, but didn't move.

"Get out," Mira repeated, now sharper.

"But Lady -"

"Get out!", she snapped, just when the door was kicked in. The two humans froze. Mira couldn't help a bright smile spreading on her face. And she had thought she wouldn't see him again.

"You two get out," she ordered absently when she went to face her new rival. Best enemies, so to say. She ignored them, though she heard the first hesitating step, a stop and Pip grabbing Seras' arm. Then Alexander Anderson's fist connected with her jaw while she punched him straight in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping in pain, while she was thrown back, blood running over her face. The two humans still hadn't moved. Mira sighed. That got to be a joke. She forced a smile on her face, matching Anderson's laugh. "Couldn't take it anymore, eh, Alexandru?"

"Mira," he grinned. Despite the mockery in his voice it was good to hear her real name from him again. They charged again, his fist sending a shock wave of pain through her body while she hit his nose. It broke with a crack. Her spat the blood on the floor and drew his bayonets. Pip and Seras drew their guns, cursing. Mira cursed as well, but internally. Why were they still here?

The bayonet buried in the wall. Mira hesitated one moment too long. Alexandru picked up his broken glasses and put them on again. The paper fluttered softly in the breeze.

Great. Now the two had ruined it. She could have had a good time. It was not Alex, but he looked like him. She could have at least stolen one kiss.

Hesitatingly, Seras dared to advance to the paper nailed to the wall. Anderson grinned, but didn't make a move to attack her. "Uhm... Lady Mira...", Seras said carefully, intimidated by the vampire's burning eyes. Damn this good-hearted little girl! Damn her and her fiance!

Anderson ignored her and turned to Mira. "Aif ye gae aboot thirteen kilometers til the north, there's a Vatican airfield disguised as ae cropduster's. There's ae wee jet there wi' it's engine a'ready warmed up." He abruptly turned around. "Ging on, away wi' ye. It's aw yer's, tak it and vanish. While Ah can still control ma urge tae kill the lot o' ye." He walked out the door and left. Mira blinked. That was it? Seriously?

"You two wrap up here and get to the jet. I'll join you soon." She casually walked out and changed her shape to the businesswoman she had impersonated when she arrived, but now in a quite cheeky red summer dress.

Anderson didn't seem to notice he was being followed. He just walked down the road, unfit for this environment as much as her, yet nobody dared to even look at him for too long. Then he turned into a small side street and a group of mercenaries opened fire. Mira heard their shouts, but stayed out of sight. They were nothing more than a distraction Millennium had sent for the paladin.

Anderson laughed. "Ye heathen mongrels! Wi' dae ye think that will help ye?" He took the fire, shielding his face with the strong arms, his bayonets slashing through the men like wheat. It was over in less than a minute. Alexandru was barely out of breath. He shook off the bullets, his flesh healing in seconds. Was he even feeling the pain that would have paralyzed a normal human?

"Damned vermin."

"Does that count for me as well?" He spun. Mira leaned against the wall, a coquettish smile on her face. "You didn't say goodbye properly. Where are your manners, Alexandru?"

He frowned. She could feel him fighting for patience. He wanted to attack her, a battle to life and death, that was their destiny. But he wasn't allowed to. They would get into trouble if they actually fought now and Mira planned to oblige. Her master was awaiting her at home.

"Ma name's nae Alexandru. It's Alexander," he growled, to say anything at all it seemed.

"Of course," she said softly. "I'm sorry." He stared at her, openly confused. Mira in turn stared at the ground. She was being ridiculous. A monster like her didn't feel. She didn't deserve to.

"Goodbye." She wanted to turn around and walk away for now. Then she had jumped at him, pressed her lips on his – tasting his blood she had spilled and... raspberries? -, and ran for the figurative hills. What the hell had she done?

It took Alexander a while until he yelled after her: "Next time ye willnae be that lucky!" She rose up in the air and reached the airfield. The jet was ready to start. She entered, walked past Seras and Pip in the cockpit (they were more disturbed by her weird behavior than by the bloodbath in the last night, but didn't dare to say anything), sat in a random chair and stared out of the window until there was only the emptiness of the sky and her own thoughts she didn't understand anymore herself.

* * *

_Romania, near the Borgo-pass, November 8th, 1898_

"Did I... lose? Have I... been bested, milady?" Her vision was swimming, only showing the slender figure above her. The sun was rising. It was finally rising. How beautiful the sunlight was. How much she missed it. She had forsaken it so long ago. Was it finally time to walk in the sun again?

"Yes, vampire queen, you have been bested. No nightmare lasts forever." Vladimira's vision cleared and she looked in the burning blue eyes of Abigail van Helsing. Her face was lined, but her wits were alive, her words soft, but strong. Her long red coat fluttered around her ankles. The warrior woman, the female professor, the one everybody laughed or sneered at, yet ran to whenever something inexplicable happened. Her short blond hair was streaked with gray, yet she was strong.

"Your castle is burning, your dominions are destroyed, your servants dead. What do you do now, no life queen? You have nothing left." She looked down on her defeated enemy, lying on the ground like the broken rag doll she was. "Even his mark from the Eucharist wafer has vanished. He will never belong to you." The vampire tried to let one last glance fall on the one she had made all those efforts for. Will Harker, that pitiful boy, was now saved _from_ a woman _by_ a woman. No doubt the story told would be quite different for centuries. But what did it concern him? His wife was waiting for him, he would go on and live a life after this dawn. They all would. Seward, and Stoker, and Godalming, Harker and his wife, and Professor Van Helsing.

"The boy has fled this place forevermore," Van Helsing said, as if she had read her thoughts. "And all of this for what, countess? What did you want to accomplish, pitiful monster?"

Abigail raised her fist and smashed it down. The vampire queen heard her own scream and tasted blood when the stake entered her heart. This was it. Maybe now she would be free. Free to be judged by God, or free to vanish forever. Just like the unfortunates she had killed, Lucas Westenra and Quincey Morris, and all the others throughout the years. Would they find the peace she had been deprived of and would forever?

Van Helsing grabbed the vampire's collar and shook her. "You hear me?!", she spat. "You are alone, you are defeated! Everything you had now is gone! You have nothing! You are nothing! Nothing!"

The vampire calmly looked at her. Yes, she was defeated. She had thought she could never lose, yet she had lost to this woman. She was just a human and had eventually triumphed about the forces of the night. Maybe it was best like this. Let it all end.

A smile crossed Abigail van Helsing's face. "I know what you are thinking, countess. That everything will end now. But that's not true. For them, it is over. There have been more than enough sacrifices, enough horrors. Their nightmare has finally ended. But you will not wake from this nightmare, I'm afraid. For us, for you and me, it is not over yet. No, I might be old, but this journey has just begun."

* * *

_Vatican private jet, on its way to London, September 19th, 2016_

_"And even if I'm gone, my children can take my place. We van Helsings never leave a task unfinished."_

"'ello, Lady... Mira? We'll be in London soon. Landing in ten minutes, so get ready. Lady Caitlyn called in, ze conference was rescheduled to today. We need to be zere as soon as possible."

Mira opened her eyes as the crackling of the speaker system faded. She touched her face and stared at the red on her fingers. She could still taste the blood, the smoke, the scents of her old home.

Where had they gone? To Britain, the place she had just fled, all alone. Like she had always been. This was the destiny of a monster.

"A dream?", she asked, almost scared, as if the word would make it more real. Her cheeks were streaked with the bloody tears she had cried. Monsters didn't cry. They couldn't.

"A dream," she snorted. "Me, dreaming? How ridiculous."

The jet was approaching the landing strip fast. They were back. Back in the place Abigail had chosen for the monster she had defeated, the pitiful creature she had tamed, the servant she had made for eternity. Because that was the way man and monster worked.

Mira wiped the blood off her face. Lady Caitlyn would be waiting impatiently for her report. It was Mira's duty to serve her with anything in her power. That was her purpose.

They landed and the jet came to a halt, its engines dying quickly. "Ze luggage will be taken care of," Pip said, leaning against the doorway. She didn't answer. Sometimes, blood spoke, but not now. Now it stayed silent. A dream. What a joke.

"M-Mira?" Seras hesitated before walking up to the vampire, unsure if she should be more scared of her or the freaky coffin. "Are... are you alright?"

Mira got up, flashing them both a smile that seemed just a tiny bit off. "Oh yes. It's good to be home."

* * *

The flashback is for ninjadaleburg who proposed to bring in Abraham van Helsing as a woman. Thank you for that :)

Originally I never planned focusing on the Alexander (Alexandru) / Mira thing so much. It just developed like this. For a bit background on Mira's past see "The countess' dream". Thanks for reading :)


	17. Houses of the Holy

**Chapter 16: Houses of the Holy**

_Royal family villa Krauney house, outside of London, September 19th, 2016_

"Wonder how Heinkel and Vicky are doing?", Lisa said.

"They'll be fine," Enrico answered absently. It was a good idea of her to strike up meaningless conversation while they were being escorted to the conference, but then again, he wasn't in the mood for small talk. The Royal family villa was gigantic, even knowing the inner Vatican. The conference itself would take place in the largest room. They entered and thirteen disapproving and a few neutral faces stared at them. Only one person immediately smiled. Enrico didn't react to either of them, keeping up an air of arrogant self-confidence. These heathens would burn in hell soon enough.

The Round Table and Hellsing's butler glared while the Iscariots went to their seats. The vast room was lined with thin pillars supporting an overhead gallery. Probably guards everywhere. As if that was necessary with that vampire standing there and another one on the way.

"He was a teenager last time," Lisa remarked quietly. The fury in the vampire's eyes said he had easily picked that out, but what did they care? He wouldn't dare to attack. Besides, what was he fuming about? That was just a normal remark. ...Why the hell did Enrico think about it that much?

In the middle of the room was an impossibly long oak table. The Round Table members were positioned on the right side from the door, twelve important political figures, most of them fairly old. How symbolic, twelve of them and him as the Iscariot, literally. Caitlyn sat at the far end, in a conservative black suit with her hair in a tight knot. The ponytail had looked better. On the profile photo her hair was open and that _certainly_ looked better.

Behind her, in the shadows, sat the Queen. She was guarded by two fairly identical-looking men. And everybody else in this room except for the three Iscariots. Enrico put down his briefcase and sat down, Renaldo next to him. Lisa positioned herself behind them, seemingly casual, but her weapons ready. Enrico unpacked a few files, but in fact he didn't really know why he had brought them. Just underlining how much information they had. His hand protested weakly, but he could ignore it. The wound had healed considerably well by now. Finally.

"How will we proceed?", Renaldo asked quietly.

"Depends on how Britain will react," Enrico answered. "The Holy Father wants me to offer our full cooperation. I'd rather aim for Lady Hellsing personally, though. They will try to appear as one unit, but that this is not the case is our leverage. And they know it."

It was silent in the room except for the occasional shuffle of clothes. The glares of next to everybody on him were so hateful he could almost feel them. It was amusing, actually.

His phone vibrated. Confused who would message him – everybody knew he was at the conference – he took it out, looking at the screen below the table. Renaldo didn't allow himself even to frown, but the elderly priest radiated disapproval. Enrico ignored him.

_How was your flight?_

He blinked and thrust Caitlyn a confused glance. She smiled at him. After a moment's hesitation he smiled back. Genuinely. He replied: _Texting under the tablecloth? Are we in high school again?_

She smirked. _Not at all. I'm just bored. Heard anything new from Millennium?_

Nice try. He couldn't help a smile. _You'll hear about it soon. Btw, seems like we're the most hated persons in the room right now._

He was ripped from the conversation when Hugh Irons cleared his throat in a quite passive-aggressive manner. "Since now everybody is here -"

The queen interrupted him. "Lady Hellsing, has she not arrived yet?"

Enrico had to suppress a smile when Irons sat back down with a face like he had just bitten into a lemon. Caitlyn looked smugly satisfied. The whole situation was hilarious.

"No, your Majesty. But I'm sure she will arrive soon enough. Until then, we can surely -"

Enrico was distracted when Lisa said quietly: "Maybe it was a bad idea to use Anderson as a messenger?"

Enrico had similar doubts. Anderson was one of his most reliable men (technically _the_ most reliable _man_), but when it came to that vampire he turned into a completely different person. Nevertheless, he said: "No. We had no other choice. Unfortunately, and unpleasantly, we are running in circles with our hands tied." _Which would be even more the case if everything went according to Cornelius' plans._ "All of our actions are completely devoted to these people. Without a veritable source of diligence we will not be able to touch them. Their collaborators have spread everywhere. Governments, militaries, the economic world, et cetera." He was very well aware that everybody could hear him, despite talking quietly. Caitlyn watched him with her head slightly cocked. "There are few people who can prevail against the temptation of eternal life." He saw the wary glances cast upon them and continued: "I should not be surprised if that holds true worldwide, including England and the Vatican. And probably even among those here. Damned vermin." The last words came out with less force than planned. He had caught Caitlyn's glance and half-smile.

Only seconds later, his phone blinked. _Nice speech. _

_What do you want?_ In an actual conversation he would have sighed in annoyance.

_Chatting. As I said. I'm bored. Mira will come here whenever and I can annoy the old farts._

He could barely suppress a surprised giggle which had made him look fairly ridiculous. He didn't really care about what the heathens thought about him, but otherwise he didn't need to act like a school boy. _How mature. When we're already_

He was interrupted when one of the little chocolates from the bowls standing in regular intervals on the table slid past him. He caught it a second after it fell off the tabletop. Caitlyn didn't look at him, but was talking to her butler. Frowning, Enrico opened the wrapper. A tiny note fell on the phone in his lap. Caitlyn must have prepared it earlier. He popped the chocolate into his mouth – it was excellent – and unfolded the note.

It was blank. Feeling somewhat made fun of, Enrico stuffed the wrapper and note in the pocket of his trousers. But was he really surprised? She was barely more than a child after all. He couldn't exactly expect more from her.

Despite wanting to ignore her, he read the message reaching him shortly after.

_Just wanted to check if that works. Which did you get?_

He briefly considered not even dignifying this with an response, but the Round Table was discussing and completely excluding them from anything. He could feel Lisa's amused and Renaldo's disapproving glances. _It was blank. Lady Hellsing, what are you playing at?_

_Call me Cait_, she replied. _Too few people do that. And I'm not playing AT anything. Just bored. Besides, I thought you like chocolate?_ Before he could respond, she sent another message: _Super random question, but what spellcheck do you have? English or Italian?_

He didn't know what to make of that question – she was right, that was random. _English. So I take it I can ask you things as well?_

Caitlyn got the message, but didn't respond anymore. Sir Irons had stood up again. "We should start. If everybody would be nice enough to direct their attention to the conference." He glared at Caitlyn and ignored Enrico. The bishop laid his phone in his lap, but didn't put it away. He might need it. Not very likely, but better safe than sorry, the proverb said. The briefcase stood between his feet. Normally he preferred to cross his legs, but he couldn't do that now.

"Since the guests always come first, maybe the Vatican should start with the topic of the day," a younger man, meaning around forty, said. Enrico didn't even remember his name. Maybe he should have looked that up. On the other hand, the Brazil situation had left him not an awful lot of time for that. "Is there a certain reason why they sent... some Iscariot?"

Enrico allowed himself a derogatory smile. He refused to point out that he was in fact the director of Section XIII. They knew that. "The Iscariot organization is trusted to handle this situation as the ones with the most experience in the field." He looked at everyone for a moment. "I don't need to summarize the situation, right? Very well."

He was interrupted when the door slammed open. Everybody turned and the vampire woman walked in. She was followed by a young blond girl and a man with long ginger hair and an eye patch. So those were the replacements Lady Hellsing had organized for her fallen men. Mercenaries. Interesting choice. The two humans seemed slightly surprised by the sheer size of the conference.

The vampire looked around. "Truly splendid, everyone's here," she said cheerfully. She removed her sunglasses, shooting the Iscariots a weird look Enrico couldn't place, and walked up to Lady Hellsing without paying the Round Table or the guards any attention. Her human companions took their posts on the left side of Lady Hellsing while the butler was on the right. Vladimira stopped and bowed.

"I have returned, my master," she said.

Caitlyn hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something else. "Good work, Mira. Her Majesty would like to hear your report."

The vampire turned and walked up to the queen, ignoring the two bodyguards trying to stop her. Caitlyn, in the meanwhile, cast Enrico a short glance and typed something into her phone.

_I had almost said "Thank you Captain Obvious"._

He suppressed a grin, but didn't answer. What was she playing at? Trying to make friends? That seemed illogical and unlikely, given their organizations' enmity. He had told Cornelius and the Pope Caitlyn was gullible. Maybe she was. She was little more than a teenager after all. But it was not as easy as he had described it. Not with someone as perceptive and manipulative as her. He'd be the idiot Cornelius thought him to be if he believed she really wanted to be friends. Aside from the fact that it would never be possible anyway, her being a heathen. A pity.

"It's been a while, countess," the queen said softly.

"Indeed it has. About seventy years I'd say. You've become the queen since then." Vladimira knelt down and the queen touched her cheek.

"Nothing about you ever changes, my dear countess. Look at me. Just a wrinkled old woman."

"There is an own miracle in aging, young lady. You're still the same witty heroine I remember from long ago. No, queen. Now you are truly beautiful."

_Uh-huh...?_ Enrico wasn't exactly sure what to make of all this. Even the queen of the heathens wasn't all too resistant against the 'opportunities' of eternity. Not that it was such a surprise among this godless bunch.

The queen chuckled. For a strange moment she reminded Enrico of the Pope. "Deliver your report. Vampire."

Vladimira turned and studied the congregation with a smile on her face. It was obvious how much she was enjoying herself. "Once upon a time there was an insane major in the SS," she began her tale. "He said: 'Let us make an immortal army. Let us make invulnerable soldiers.' They strove towards their reckless goal in a swelling sea of blood and madness."

"The Millennium organization's project," Caitlyn said, quietly. She seemed more scared than she should. A lot more. Just a frightened child. ...Why did he have the sudden urge to protect her, just like he had always protected Lisa?

"Correct," Vladimira said, with a hint of amusement. "But seventy years ago, in 1944, we put an end to that project. We being myself and Walter." Uneasy glances were cast to the vampire standing next to Lady Hellsing. He only gave them a polite, slightly mocking smile.

"However, they didn't abandon their true intention. Everyone forgot about them, or tried to. But they undoubtedly continue their vindictive existence in the depths of shadow, while slowly, slowly extending their abilities." Enrico caught Lisa's gaze. She thought the same as him: This speech was long since planned. Who the hell talked like that otherwise?

"Currently their dreadful researching is reaching its horizon of perfecting vampire production. A vampire Kampfgruppe, an invulnerable army of unhumans. The last remnants of the Third Reich." She grinned in anticipation, as if the monsters would jump at her right here and end this day in a bloody battle. "The Letztes Bataillon."

Enrico thought it to be appropriate to look at least fairly shocked and / or surprised, despite having known all of this for a while. The Round Table (or old farts, in Caitlyn's words, which was a far more amusing term) certainly were shocked to the bone. Good for them. They would be mad at Caitlyn, binding her only closer to Iscariot.

So this was the big revelation? Iscariot had known all of this and more before. Well, Cornelius certainly didn't know about the vampire butler, but that was about it. All this mess just to have repeated what they already knew? And for displaying assistance – making the heathens feel safe.

Now they _still_ knew next to nothing about Millennium as it was now. Nothing closer about the who's who and whatever. If he didn't come home with any development, Cornelius would leap at him like the damned vulture he was and was sure to rip Enrico to pieces. And the worst part was, Iscariot's leader would have no means to defend himself.

"Tubalcain's blood gave us avay, didn't it? Really, I guess he vas good for somezing." Everybody spun. Enrico could barely keep his jaw from dropping.

The boy could not be older than fourteen. Except he had been like that for at least 70 years. He grinned at the conference, his pink eyes glowing slightly. He wore a uniform with short sleeves and trousers that was way too chilly for this time of year. His dark brown cat ears in the blond hair flicked once, studying everybody, pausing for a moment at the butler. All bodyguards drew their weapons.

Schrödinger raised his hands in defense. "Vait. I'm just a messenger. I'm not here to fight you."

_That's impossible. He can't exist._ Yet the cat boy was standing right there, just a few meters away from him. "H-How?", Enrico managed.

Caitlyn was completely calm. She had known about him before the meeting in the museum. That was the only explanation. Enrico cursed himself for not taking this seriously. Caitlyn shot him a smile. "Walter?"

"Our security is flawless. No signs of a break-in," the vampire stated calmly.

"Save your breath," the cat boy said cheerfully. "I'm everywhere and nowhere." He put down a mobile screen on the far end of the table, so everybody could see it. "Since eweryone from England und the Watican are gathered together here today, our Kommandant, Herr Major, has something wery important to say." He took out a remote and pressed it.

Nothing happened.

"Varrant officer Schrödinger?", a shrill male voice inquired from the screen. "I can't see anything. Vhat are you doing? Hurry and stand the brigadier general against ze wall."

"Major, please, stop this madness-", begged a different voice. There were shots. The screen flashed and showed the picture of bodies over bodies, shot down and lying in a pool of blood. A collective gasp went through the room. Caitlyn went white as a sheet.

Enrico was frozen for a moment, but then remembered his plan. Really, it had been just a vague idea, nothing that made sense if you looked at it rationally. But now he was glad to have trusted his instincts. All he needed to do was open a program he had installed on his phone and activate the gadget he had brought.

"Ah, zere's ze image." The man wore a white suit with a long coat and thick glasses. The blond hair was slicked back except for the left side, where it hung in his face in perfect order. He grinned at them, a small, fat man with just the disgusting expression Brown had described to Enrico months ago. The boy giggled. "Sounds like you haf your hand full zere, Major!"

He sighed. "It's troublesome having to deal with superiors who are cowards. But I finally find relief. It feels good. Wery good."

The cat boy turned around in surprise when Vladimira approached the screen. "Hi there, Major," she said with a smile.

"It's been a long time, dear Vladimira. I'm so very glad to see you again." The Major directed his gaze over to the far end of the table. Caitlyn was sitting there with her fists clenched, white as a sheet and trembling. It didn't need any ill volition to tell she was overwhelmed by the situation. The Round Table would rip her to pieces once this was over.

"Ah, the new Lady Hellsing," the Major said, amused. "I believe this is the first time we speak to each other."

Caitlyn needed a moment to gather her words. For some reason it seemed like she was reciting Shakespeare in her head. "Indeed it is, Major. I take it you're here to tell us what you want?"

He raised his eyebrows. "What I want? You mean my goal?"

"_Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall_," she murmured.

"Excuse me?!" That was Sir Irons. He had jumped up. "As you see, Miss Hellsing is not capable of leading these negotiations-"

"Shut up!", the Major snapped. "I'm talking to _her_. It's been a vhile since I talked to a young girl, so don't interfere vith me, boy!" He walked along some kind of corridor, until he stood in front of a tied up and gagged man in a general's uniform. There was a sign around his neck saying _Zum Henker Defätist_. Now it would come in handy to have Heinkel present. Not that it was incredibly important what the words meant. The Major snapped his fingers and the vampires leaped at the unfortunate general, tearing his throat to pieces and splattering blood everywhere.

"That looks pret-ty severe," the cat boy said, laughing and rubbing the back of his neck. Nobody said anything. They just stared at the massacre.

Lisa took a step forward. Her hand brushed her brother's on the armrest.

"You're all insane," Enrico said plainly. The Major turned to him and grinned.

"You speak of madness to me? Vatican Section XII chief?"

"Yes, I do," Enrico said, gritting his teeth. "Not one of you is sound in the mind!"

"Thankfully, it's your God who guarantees my madness, you see," the Major said with a giggle. "Vell, let me ask you this: Who in the vorld guarantees ze sanity of your God?"

Enrico jumped to his feet and slammed his palms on the table. "Do you understand who the hell you are talking to?!" The next moment, an arrow of fire dug into his left hand. He managed not to cry out, but that was about it. He felt hot blood seeping into the bandage once again.

The Major grinned. "Maybe I should be vearing a black SS uniform?" Enrico fell back on the chair, his lips pressed tightly together, trying hard not to grimace at the pain. Lisa laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Ve are ze Schutzstaffel of the Third Reich, ve are-

"_Brevity is the soul of wit_," Caitlyn interrupted him. The Major broke off in surprise, not used to being cut off.

"_The game is up_," Caitlyn said. All fear had gone from her voice, although she was still very pale.

The Major giggled. "Wery vell. Lady Hellsing is right. Try to stop me zen, you self-styled standard of normality. But you are not my enemy, so keep your vords to yourself for a bit, Section XIII. My enemy is Great Britain. Nein! It is zis woman who stands there so joyful! And her partner, obviously," he added after a moment, almost softly.

Silence fell, only interrupted by the manic laughter of the vampires known as Vladimira and Walter. Caitlyn looked from one to the other, helpless and without a clue what she should do about this. The cat boy was still standing there, observing everything with a grin. Enrico was close to ordering they should get rid of him. Then Lisa stepped forward.

Schrödinger turned, and his ears shot up. For a moment they only looked at each other. Then Lisa stroked his blond hair. The Round Table was still too occupied by the vampires declaring war on this fat madman, but Caitlyn noticed. The two leaders exchanged a glance. Lisa cuddled with the cat boy and talked to him, though her words were intelligible in the turmoil.

Enrico felt like he would either start crying or laughing hysterically any moment. Cornelius would rip him to pieces. The Round Table would rip Caitlyn to pieces and then they were both screwed. He couldn't help it. He facepalmed, as it was called these days, not able to fight a slightly desperate grin, accompanied by a groan. God. Of all times possible, _Lisa_, the most reasonable person he knew, pulled such a stunt. She loved cats, of course, but what the hell was she thinking?!

And the worst part: He wasn't even surprised. If anything could go wrong, it would.

Time for Plan B. Or what he could use as a Plan B in the thirty seconds he had had to think so far. Considering he had not expected even to need a Plan A, that was not so bad. Caitlyn shot him a glance. She was just as speechless as he was, an incredulous smile on her face.

"Varrant officer Schrödinger?", the Major asked, and not for the first time. He was getting irritated. That was probably quite bad for his surroundings. The better for their enemies.

Schrödinger purred loudly and was too occupied with Lisa to listen to his boss. Yet.

The device had logged into the signal Millennium used without a problem. They didn't even try to cipher it? That got to be a joke. "Shut it Major. We're not talking to you," Enrico mumbled. He slid the controller to the right and the Major's screen went blank. Using the remote would have done too, thinking about it again.

"What the-" The man – someone from the Round Table, Enrico didn't even bother to check who – was cut off by a hiss. Caitlyn made a harsh gesture and stood up. It was silent, except for her footsteps. She took one of the chairs and turned it away from the table, so Lisa could sit down. The cat boy snuggled up to her, enjoying having his ears petted. He looked stoned. Maybe Lisa had brought catnip, for some mysterious reason? That got to be a joke.

"So, do you like it there?", Lisa asked. "Is everyone nice to you?"

"Ja, I like it," the cat boy said. "Some are not so nice, some are, but it's fine."

"Really? Who's not nice to someone like you?", Lisa asked, sounding genuinely indignant.

The boy giggled and purred. "I like pranks, zat's all. But ze Major is nice to me. Ze Doktor is often angry, but he likes me anyway. After all, he created me."

"Oh really? He got to be very clever," Lisa said. Caitlyn stood next to Enrico, who wasn't sure how to take all of this. He wanted to stand up and join in. There were so many questions he hadn't had the time to talk with Lisa about. Lady Hellsing took his hand to hold him back and smiled. Her skin was icy and slightly sweaty, he even could feel her pulse, now slowing a bit. She had been under a lot of stress after all. She let go after a second, a bit hastily.

Enrico returned his attention to his sister. Either she was crazy or a genius. Maybe both.

Schrödinger was praising the "Doctor" into high heavens. He was the one who had developed the vampire process, the complete base, also the zeppelins (_Zeppelins? Really?_, Enrico thought. Then again, it was not surprising that they were old-fashioned.) and everything else. He could do anything. Except a decent firewall.

"Sounds great. What about the others? Any friends?"

"Vell, zere is Zorin. She is a bit scary if you don't know her and rude, but she can be nice. You just shouldn't annoy her too much. She has zose cool powers of making you see stuff that isn't zere. But sometimes she uses it to scare me."

"That is really mean," Lisa said softly.

"Normally I go to Rip or Hans, but she's avay now and ze Captain doesn't talk."

"Really? Why not?"

"I don't zink he can. Besides, he's always with ze Major. He's his bodyguard." He paused for a moment and seemed to think things over. "Zose Valentines aren't nice either. Luckily, zey are not at headquarters." He sniffed, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "hussies". Then he leaned his head again on Lisa's shoulder. "And Tubalcain was.. mhm, he was okay. Ve all had fun together. In ze past." He sighed, seeming nostalgic, and purred again. "Over zere. Ah, ja, zat's great. Danke." Lisa obeyed with a grin. She seemed to enjoy it just as much as the cat boy. Enrico looked at Caitlyn. She looked at him. They exchanged a smile that said I have no idea what the hell is going on.

"What does the Major want, anyway? He didn't say," Lisa continued.

The cat boy didn't answer for a while. "Var," he eventually said. "And defeating Alucard." He sat up and flicked his ears. "Though I zink it was quite a surprise to see Hellsing's butler... like this. Even to ze Major." Walter's eyes narrowed, but he didn't move.

"It must be difficult upholding such a large group, especially providing them with food and all, somewhere remote..."

"Where is your base?", Walsh fell in. Not only Schrödinger jumped. But the cat boy slid off Lisa's lap and looked around with a look of growing panic. He noticed the turned-off screen and sagged.

"You... you tricked me!", he said, his voice shaking. The pink eyes flashed angrily. And the weirdest of all: He seemed severely disappointed, as if Lisa had been a long-since trusted friend. "You tricked me into revealing stuff!" He hissed at them, a genuine cat hiss. "But you didn't get anything important anyway!" He vanished and appeared again next to the screen. He picked it up and was gone.

Silence resided.

Walsh seemed to shrink to the size of a chipmunk under the glares of not only Caitlyn and the Maxwell siblings. "You busted it," Lisa said plainly. If she was with someone she knew better, she would have gotten one of her incredibly rare freak-outs. Enrico didn't really want to imagine that. Walsh tried to find an excuse and couldn't.

"Caitlyn. Vladimira. And Walter, of course," the queen said into the angry silence. Caitlyn turned sharply. Unlike her vampires she was far from being happy. She seemed rather close to tears.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"This is an order. Bring them all down."

* * *

_Half an hour later_

"Come back immediately. God bless you."

"Amen." The line was cut off. Now then, there was a good chance that Heinkel and her student would be back before Anderson. He really went into a lot of effort to help them hide this. Then again, it would be worthwhile, once Victoria became a paladin, he hoped. It was certainly out of character for Heinkel to praise a trainee like she had. She was just as strict with everybody as she was with herself. And 'The Wolf's' standards were not an easy match.

Lisa had said she needed a bathroom break, but how long could that possibly take? Even Renaldo had gone off to somewhere. Enrico had been busy and hadn't listened what he was planning to do.

They were pretty much alone, except for the guards hovering nearby at every step, out of hearing range, but not out of sight. The Round Table had already left, as had the queen, presumably. Caitlyn and her vampires were probably still around. In the wake of Walsh's screw-up Caitlyn had gone undisturbed and even congratulated. Not ever mentioning it had been the Iscariot's work. But that was fine.

He just needed to check if his plan had worked out. Using an unciphered signal. Seriously? Of course it could still be a trap, but deep down he knew it was not. Those Nazis were even more backwards than expected. Before he could even start, his phone rang again. Headquarters.

"Si?"

"Chief, it's Yumiko." She sounded terribly upset, but tried to be professional and calm. Shouldn't she help out at Section X?  
"Did something happen?" He had a really, really bad feeling about this. Something important had happened. Why else would Yumiko call? She hated phone calls.

"Yes, chief, it's... it's..."

Enrico rolled his eyes. He had really no patience left for this kind of behavior today. "Yumiko, just tell me what's going on," he barked.

For a moment, there was startled silence. Was she crying? What the hell was going on? "Bishop Cornelius is dead and everybody thinks you did it!", Yumiko blurted out.

"WHAT?!" For a moment he had to search for words. "When... how?"

"He... he was found this morning. Rat poison."

He heard Cornelius' voice, full of anger at his defeat and hate for his rival. "_Be careful. Vermin gets exterminated one day or the other. A little rat like you will always land where it came from._"

Cornelius had died of rat poison. How far off was it that Enrico Maxwell, leader of the infamous Section XIII, for whom breaking the rules was business, had taken this as a cue for his revenge? And even if he hadn't done it personally – why should he? – one of his subordinates, those professional murderers, would have done it without hesitation.

Enrico sagged against the wall. There was nothing he could do to disprove that either. It made just too much sense. How often had he thought of getting rid of Cornelius, just to discard the plan, because he would be the most likely suspect, no matter how Cornelius died?

"...Chief?", Yumiko inquired nervously.

He brushed through his open hair with the hand not holding the phone, a gesture he didn't notice, but showed just how confused and helpless he felt. Feeling like that made him angry. Everything had been going so well so far.

"Yes. Thank you. Do me a favor and find out if Section II will get involved. I'll get to it when I come back."

"Yes, Sir." There was a long pause, but Yumiko didn't hang up.

"Something else?"

"I... I... forgive me. Enrico, I'm asking as a friend." She seemed to gather all her courage. "Did you... are you responsible for Bishop Cornelius' death?"

Enrico leaned back his head and closed his eyes. If even his best friends were suspecting him, he was even more screwed than he had imagined. "No, Yumiko," he said calmly. "I had nothing to do with this. It's what Cornelius wants everybody to think."

"You... you're not mad, right?"

He sighed. Was he? No. Not even disappointed or offended. It was the character of Iscariot in purity. Nothing more. "No. I'm glad you asked. Something else. Heinkel and Vicky will be back in a few hours. Go pick them up from the airport if you will."

"Of course chief." She sounded more cheery now. No doubt she believed him. That was good. If nobody else would, at least them. There was nothing he could do for now. He could only hope Cornelius had been unable to put up a convincing scenario. He certainly hadn't planned on dying.

_Divine punishment_, Enrico thought, not sure if what he felt was bitterness or amusement.

"Also, there came an order directly from the Holy Father. Do you want to read it when you come here? I didn't dare open it."

He had to smile. That loyalty was exactly what a leader could wish for. "No, read it to me, please."

There was the sound of paper tearing when Yumiko opened the envelope with a paper knife. She probably looked it over first, because he heard a gasp. _No more bad news, please._

But when Yumiko began to read, her voice was high-pitched with excitement. "Preparations for the reconquista of Great Britain and defeat of the unholy forces of Millennium. As of this day, the Knights of Malta, the Order of St. John, the Hospitallers, the Order of St. George and the Swiss Guard are mobilizing. Section III, Matthew, is preparing weapons for anti-vampire combat. All further coordination falls to Section XIII. All mobilized forces of the Ninth Crusade will answer to the leader of the Iscariot organization, Bishop Enrico Maxwell."

Enrico blinked. "What?"

"Looks like you just got in line with Godfrey of Bouillon and Richard the Lionheart."

He felt a smile spread on his face. "I wouldn't go that far," he said. That was incredible. Literally. Just incredible. He had to be dreaming. "I'm not a knight," he murmured. "Was that order issued before Cornelius' death?"

"Uhm.. I really don't know. It doesn't say an exact date." _Well, the Pope surely can't take it back all of a sudden._

"Fine. Thank you. I'll be back this evening." They rang off and he stashed away his phone. He'd check on Millennium from his office. The laptop worked a lot better anyway.

If this crusade was a success, Cornelius' death would only become a footnote in history. What if everybody thought he killed him? It wasn't important anymore. Of course, if the crusade failed, Cornelius would be the least of his worries.

"That must have hurt a lot." Enrico spun, startled out of his thoughts, his triumphant grin vanishing. Caitlyn smiled at him. "Hope I don't disturb you."

"Not at all." She had opened the knot and her hair was falling on her shoulders again. Also she had taken off the jacket and opened the first button of the shirt.

Where the hell were Lisa and Renaldo? Their flight was still three hours to go, but he didn't need to be around these heathens any more than ne-

Caitlyn took his hand, the left one, and held it. Enrico was too surprised to pull back. The wall behind him made it impossible to put any distance between them. Not that he thought of that right now. She had washed her hands and they were cool against his own warm skin. Her nervousness was gone and the impression of being close to tears.

"That was a very good strategy, sounding the cat boy."

"Thanks," he said automatically, "I'll tell Lisa."

"And thank you for helping me." He almost asked what she meant – he didn't remember actively helping her in anything – but only nodded. "You wrote I'd get to hear about Millennium soon. Didn't happen. So what did you want to say?"

What did he want to say? For a few moments his mind was completely blank as to this topic. There surely had been a few things they could have shared with England, but he couldn't remember right now. Before he started to stutter like an idiot, he just put on an enigmatic smile and shrugged his shoulders. Caitlyn shook her head in defiance.

"That's not how this works. Come on."

A thought shot from the back of his mind to the front. "We took care of a few... let's call them providers of... sustenance. Their links with the Vatican are cut for good as well."

She smiled. "It's really no base of a cooperation to fib, Father Maxwell."

_Damn it._ "Well, let's say all official and unoffical links. We still haven't found the spies, I admit that."

"Same for us. Then again, seeing Schrödinger can teleport, he would be the perfect candidate."

"Could be, but I doubt it. There must be insiders."

"Yes," she said quietly, looking down for a moment. She was still holding his left hand with both of hers. By now he was getting nervous. First off, Cornelius had already started to spread rumors about him and Caitlyn. Second, this made him utterly uncomfortable. Otherwise he couldn't explain the flutter in his stomach. He should fetch Lisa and Renaldo and get the hell out of here. There was a lot of work to do.

"Why don't you leave your hair open more often?", she suddenly said. He winced, but she didn't let go. "That looks really nice."

_What?_ "Uh... it's a bit annoying when you run around all day. And it looks unprofessional." That second part probably sounded mean. Then again, she put her hair up as well when having a professional meeting. _Maxwell, either you get yourself together, or you get out of here. Now._

Caitlyn laughed. "Yeah, you're right. Still, it looks nice."

"You... you too." So much for not stuttering like the idiot he obviously was. What the hell was she playing at? This wasn't even about anything important. Or forcing him to keep their little talks secret because they sounded too personal?

Caitlyn looked away again. Enrico had to look twice, because he didn't get it. She blushed. He as well, unfortunately. What the hell was-

Pain shot through his injured hand and finally ripped him out of whatever spell she had cast on him. He hissed involuntarily. Caitlyn winced. For a moment her cool, slender fingers brushed over his skin again, then she let go. Enrico hastily pulled back his hand, trying to ignore the pain in it. His heart was beating a lot faster than it should.

"You should go and have someone look at that," Caitlyn said. "It looks pretty bad." He couldn't help but check. There were a few tiny blood spots visible. It was a pretty thick bandage. Great. What if that hadn't healed until the crusade?

"I will." He cleared his throat and tried to sound mocking. "Is there any reason for your concern about my well-being?"

Caitlyn blinked at him. "That's what partners do, right?"

Now it was his turn to be confused. She actually saw them as partners? His plan was working better than he would have dared to hope. "...Right."

"Why do you think the signal broke off just as we were sounding the cat boy?" She looked him straight in the eyes and Enrico suddenly knew that she would know exactly if he was lying. He hadn't kept his "hobby" a secret for nothing. He would prefer to keep it like that.

"Lady Hellsing?" She took a step back and just now he realized how close they had been standing to each other. He could smell lavender again, just a faint trace now.

"Yes?", Caitlyn said. Was it his imagination or did she sound as disappointed as he felt for some reason?  
"Millennium will not wait for long to attack. We have to prepare." Walter shot Enrico a sharp glance. So the little monster didn't like him. How fearful. "Will the envoys of the Vatican accompany us?" Caitlyn looked at Enrico in an almost pleading way. It wouldn't be such a bad idea to stay a while longer. This conversation wasn't over yet.

_The hell?_ "I'm afraid that won't be possible. I have my own section to lead. We'll stay in touch."

"I'll be there in a minute, Walter." The vampire glared at the Iscariot once again and disappeared as fast as he had come. For a moment, there was uncomfortable silence.

"I have to return to the Vatican."

"Of course." She cleared her throat and smiled. "I'm glad we can face this problem together." The smile became an ironic smirk. "So we can go back to be enemies just like before."

He laughed. "Certainly. Well then, Miss- Lady Hellsing." She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he corrected himself. "Cait?"

That brought another one of those lovely smiles on her face. "Better. We both have to go back to our duties, I guess. Have a nice flight home."

"Thanks." They both hesitated, unsure how to properly say goodbye. A handshake was all that was needed, right? Caitlyn seemed to decide a pat on the shoulder would be fine, but hesitated again and it ended up in some kind of half-stroking gesture, brushing mostly his hair. She blushed again and chose the flight out front: She hugged him tightly, if only for a moment.

Enrico froze, but not failing to notice the smell of lavender in her hair. Then she hastily let go and made a dash for the door. "Goodbye."

"Bye," he managed, but only after the door had slammed shut.

_WHAT?!_

He stood there for almost a minute, unsure what to feel about what just happened. Enrico sighed and tied his hair back again. It would soon be time to go home and then he would finally be able to scoop up this mess.

Bishop Enrico Maxwell, the leader of the Ninth Crusade. How wonderful that sounded.

"You are an idiot, Enrico Maxwell." He turned around, startled. Lisa shook her head as she set down her bag and took out a small first-aid-kit. "Seriously, why put on such a show?" For a moment he had thought she was talking about him and Caitlyn.

Him and Caitlyn. As if that was a thing.

At her gesture he obediently sat down and let her remove the bandage around his hand. As expected, the fabric and his hand were blood-stained, although he had not the slightest idea where that might come from. The stitches were still in place.

"You're the one to say. Oh, by the way, a compliment from Lady Hellsing. How the hell did you get that idea?" He hissed when Lisa applied disinfectant.

"Don't be such a pussy. If you could take the blow, this shouldn't be a problem. No idea. I just did what came to my mind. That boy was super cute, don't you think?"

"I took that blow for you, remember? Be a bit more grateful," Enrico complained. Lisa shot him a weird glance, then wrapped a new bandage around his hand.

"There you go."

"Thanks. Now let's get going, I gotta call Anderson. We need to prepare."

Lisa frowned. "Prepare for what?" Enrico just shook his head and took his briefcase. They met Renaldo on their way out, still accompanied by the British guards, who cast them hostile glances. A car brought them back to the airport. They had to wait two hours for their flight to depart. In the meanwhile, Enrico set someone on the names the cat boy had mentioned and told everybody to hurry up, things were going to go down soon. Lisa wondered what he meant by that. He also made a few other phone calls, which Lisa didn't understand. What did Iscariot have to do with all the knight orders?

In the end it was almost midnight when they arrived in Rome. Even at that time, the city was bustling. Lisa was glad to be back home. So many things had happened, so much to think about. All she wanted to do is sleep. But Enrico had other plans, it seemed. He didn't even bother to take off the formal clothes from the conference before making another phone call.

"Anderson," Lisa heard him say. She had changed into pajamas and stopped in the door of the study. Enrico listened for a few moments, then put the phone on speaker. He had sat down in his chair and leaned back. Lisa felt something soft brush her ankles. Alex, their cat. She picked him up and buried her face in the soft fur for a moment. The cat was used to it and didn't struggle. He purred softly, telling his mistress she was home.

Lisa must have missed quite a bit of the conversation, because Anderson asked: "Hou was the conference?"

Enrico hesitated and flashed Lisa a brief smile that seemed ironic for some reason. "Interesting. We got a few names, but I'm already running a check on them, so don't bother."

A pause. "Hou was the vampire?", Anderson asked.

"Something the matter?", Enrico asked back with a frown.

Pause. "Nay. Jus' asking."

"I doubt I could tell if something was off about her," Enrico said slowly. "Anderson, did something happen when you brought the papers?" Lisa didn't like the sound of this. They had enough to do without Anderson getting into trouble again.

"Nothing." The answer was too sharp and given too fast to be anything but a lie. "Whit aboot finding their base?"

"Not necessary. They'll come to us eventually. The real problem is, they have their spies everywhere."

Anderson seemed relieved about the change of topic. "Ah widnae doubt it. Intelligence seems tae be leaking like it was kept in ae sieve. Ah've already been attacked three times since Ah came tae this continent." There were rapid shots, then a scream. Not Anderson's though. "Foor times," the paladin corrected himself. "As we reckoned, their arm's ae lang yin." He paused, probably looking over whatever he now saw. Lisa shivered. She told herself it was the attacker's own fault. If they wanted to be acolytes to these crazy mass murderers, they didn't deserve anything better. Iscariot was just doing their duty. She just wished this duty had not fallen to them, not to her brother. He had changed so much since he became a bishop and leader of Section XIII, and not for the better. Lisa couldn't help it. She hated Italy, and Rome, and Iscariot, and the people who did this to them. Even Enrico's quasi-family and her good friends.

_Don't be stupid_, she tried to tell herself. _It's exactly what he wants._ Which didn't mean it was good for him. Her brother was sitting in his chair, seemingly relaxed. But there was a tiny twitching in his face, a fire in his eyes she didn't like.

"But what Ah dinnae understand," Anderson said eventually. "is why they have nae sent yin vampire oot efter me." Even through the hundreds, thousands of miles Lisa could hear quotation marks around the word "vampire".

"They are trying to keep you occupied, buy themselves time," Enrico said.

"Probably," Anderson said darkly. "The question is whit are a' yon vampires up tae?"

Enrico stared at the ceiling for a moment and frowned. "Their target is Britain," he said, ending with an irritated snort. There was something else in his face Lisa couldn't place. Was it worry? Surely not about Iscariot. She had to smile. Some things didn't change.

"Maxwell, things have proceeded according tae yer plans," Anderson said. "Arenae ye bursting wi' joy?"

"Half of me is. However..." He shot Lisa another brief smile, twirling a blond strand around his finger. Should he tell himself whatever he wanted, Lisa knew what her instincts told her. She knew him too well.

"If ye're unhappy, why didnae ye talk back?", Anderson asked. "He even said oor God is mad!" His voice turned into a growl.

"He made it quite clear that we are of no concern to him. He's focused on Hellsing and their vampire pet. I doubt he would have regarded anything I said." Lisa winced when Enrico stood up, his hands clenching into fists. _That got to hurt like hell_, she thought. But it obviously didn't. Even if, Enrico was way too agitated to feel it. "This is no longer the time for words."

"Perfect timing," Anderson chuckled. "We'll hit them fae the flank wi' everything we've got."  
"Yes!", Enrico exclaimed, in some kind of evil satisfaction. "At the end of all things, it will be us standing in the ring with our fists raised." A grin spread on his face, a gruesome thing that turned him into something Lisa had never seen before, something horrible. His baritone voice was not unlike a crazy, but intelligent movie villain, a professor Moriarty maybe. "A little while ago, mobilization orders came through from his Holiness."

"Hou?", asked Anderson, a grin in his voice as well, just as Lisa asked: "What?!" Enrico didn't regard her. He had forgotten all about her presence. _Just like he forgot to tell me we are going on a crusade?_

"His Holiness put the Knights of Malta, the order of St. John, the Hospitallers, the order of St. George as well as the Swiss Guard under my command. I already moved their headquarters. The Holy Relic administration bureau, Section III, Matthew, is also in motion. They are preparing weapons thought to be suited for anti-vampire combat."

Anderson chuckled. "Thon means we're just like crusaders."

Lisa involuntarily took a step back. "Yes," Enrico growled, his voice rising to a shout, the face a mask of rage, "Undeniably. But our enemy is not Allah. The God this time is Mars. It is fitting after all. We shall pile their corpses up from every high wall to every street corner just like we did once before!"

Lisa didn't hear what Anderson answered. She had turned around and fled to the only possible place: Her room. She crawled under the covers, rolled herself tightly into them, and didn't move anymore, staring blankly at her wardrobe on the other side of the room.

Deep down, she had always known of the darkness. Everybody had it. Some more, some less. Enrico was on the 'more' side. She had seen it in 1999, and a few times after that, and had sworn herself to be his guardian, just like he protected her. There was nobody else to do so, so she would. Always and forever.

It, the darkness, whatever you wanted to call it, had been there from the beginning, born and raised by whatever Enrico's biological mother had done to him a long time ago. He didn't like to talk about that time. But Lisa had made sure 'it' never became too strong. Strong like this. She had not wanted to see how much for the worse he had changed since they had left Canada behind. Sometimes he was still the lovely, silly, caring young man she had always trusted. But more and more this seemed like a charade, a cover for something else under the surface. She had made a huge mistake ignoring it. And just how many would have to suffer for that?

For the first time in her life, Lisa was scared of her brother.

She could only pray that it was not too late to save Enrico from what he was about to become.

* * *

Phew. This chapter was hard, although I've been looking forward to it ever since I planned out the fic. So I hope I made it as awesome as I always imagined the conference (I really loved that scene in manga and OVA).

Also, thanks to ninjadaleburg and kinniget for commenting, and to all those favoriting the story. Let's be honest, I'd continue writing without you, but this appreciation surely helps me get through writer's block and difficulties, and is a great reminder I still want to improve the quality of my writing.

For the record: _Zum Henker Defätist _means something like _To hell, defeatist._ "Zum Henker" is an idiom that would literally translate to "to the hangman". In the manga the translation given is "I am a defeatist", which would be "Ich bin ein Defätist".

Honestly, I'm not even mad about all the mistakes in the manga. Both Hirano as a Japanese and the English translators obviously don't know German, and I find the results hilarious for some reason. Also, I'm more or less copying the accents when I quote from the manga, but I've never heard a German saying "ist" instead of "is" when talking English, so I leave out things I think are too stereotyped.


	18. The Final Countdown

This chapter was pretty difficult, especially since I'm getting distracted by non-Hellsing One Shots.

Never did this before, but a thanks to _all_ my readers, also those who don't comment. I know the story is very long (and a shitload of work), but it's just what I love. I find it great that at least a few followed me to this point, and hopefully will follow me further down the road my characters will take, whatever the great writing beyond wants it to be.

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Final Countdown**

_Hellsing mansion, basement, September 20th, 2016_

"Mira?" The scent of blood had drawn him inevitably to her room. The empty bags were strewn everywhere. Shaking his head, Walter gathered them on a heap. It had been a while since the last time. Something was off, he had felt it when she returned. Something had happened in Brazil. The mercenaries were no help. The girl was still too stunned by whatever had happened, which she had of course reported to Caitlyn. From Mira's version he knew she had left out a lot of gruesome details. How sensitive of her.

He sat down on the armrest of Mira's throne. She moved slightly and her head leaned against his waist. "Sure thing," he said with a grin. "There's something coming. A battle. About time." He looked at the heap he had created. "Still, you could have left something for me, you know?"

Mira didn't answer. She growled. "General? This doesn't make sense." He wanted to ask what she meant, and didn't. Mira was sleeping. She wouldn't answer anyway.

"There you are." Caitlyn opened the door and her gaze fell on the empty blood bags. She blinked, but didn't look as shocked as Walter had expected.

"She's sleeping?"

"That's what vampires normally do when the sun is up."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Caitlyn murmured. She stared at the floor. "Seras left things out. And I'm grateful for that. Then again, couldn't be worse than the Major's little show, right?"

"Surely."

Mira stirred again, and growled. Caitlyn smiled like a loving mother. Walter frowned about that thought. He himself had never known his parents. He vaguely remembered his father, the former Hellsing butler, but never his mother. He had grown up as Arthur's butler, as a servant and weapon.

"She's like a sleeping child," Caitlyn said softly. "_Sleep that knits up the revell'd sleave of care, the death of each day's life._"

"Rather like some savage beast," Walter said dryly, pointing to the heap of empty bags.

Caitlyn smiled weakly. "That's normal after she had a banquet only two days ago?" There it was. Gallows humor. Not bad. Not bad at all. Walter suppressed a grin.

"She sensed something. I feel it too. The scent of conflict. Something big is coming."

"Scent? Is that some sixth sense vampire thing?"

"If you want to call it that." She nodded. Walter sighed. When would she understand? Mira was not calling them monsters for no reason. Caitlyn wasn't even realizing what was coming for them. The Major didn't think small. No, instead she was making sheep's eyes at this dickhead of a Catholic bishop. Caitlyn was not stupid, he knew that. She could read people like a book when it came to it. So why didn't she see through his charade? It was a mystery, but one too entertaining to solve right now. She wouldn't appreciate it anyway and what would happen if Iscariot and Hellsing turned on each other before the big battle?

Mira opened her eyes. "Lady Caitlyn?" She sat up and looked at Walter.

"Had a nice dream?", he asked. Her eyes flashed and she got up. "It's nothing."

Caitlyn knew better than to get involved with an arguing couple. "Let's go. We have a situation."

* * *

_British National Security Special Guidance Division Headquarters, September 20th, 2016_

Caitlyn was glad to have Walter and Seras at her side. All these men, members of the secret service, were staring at her as if she was carrying some disease. Or rather if her appearance here was the biggest surprise of their lives. Maybe it was. Either way, it couldn't be more clear she was not welcome. So she tried to look even more indifferent and self-assured. Voices shouted at each other in the room ahead. Didn't look like they had any significant results yet.

Caitlyn wished she was somewhere far away. But Sir Penwood had asked her to help and he was the last one who deserved being ignored. They were too similar to not stick together. If Enrico had similar problems at his place? He didn't seem the most popular person on his side as well, yet he had the leading position. _When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions._

In this case a battalion of vampires. This psychopath called Major, the Brazil situation, now this. And yet she couldn't help wondering what her Vatican counterpart was doing. His hand must still hurt. She wondered again what had happened.

Walter certainly wasn't happy about that. Not that it was his business who she was interested in, especially if it was just a crush that would never happen anyway. She hadn't been fancying him that much after all, it seemed. That was good news, she supposed.

"Lady Hellsing. Thank God." She blinked. They were already standing in the middle of the control center. She had made a dramatic entrance and failed to say something appropriate. Well, that sucked. Penwood didn't seem to mind. He had jumped to his feet. It was interesting, seeing him in a uniform instead of a suit. The suit fit him a bit better, to be honest. He didn't look that misplaced in it.

"Sir Penwood," she said, taking his hand, and giving him a smile. He looked stressed. Never a good sign. Stressed enough to ignore Walter. Very bad.

"Admiral!", a tall brown-haired man barked. His name tag called him McDaniels. "Don't tell me you seek help from that lot!"

Another one, a blond guy named – Caitlyn couldn't suppress a smile – Spoiler, joined in. "This is a matter of national security!", he exclaimed in hurt dignity. "Would you permit the involvement of a suspicious group like them?!"

"Now, no name calling please," said Caitlyn as friendly as she could. That hurt, but she couldn't blame them. Hellsing was a bit of a shady thing. They had no choice, considering what their task was. This was not about the status of her organization anyway. They just didn't want to lose control. Again, completely understandable.

"You want to put a girl like that in charge?" Somebody snapped. Caitlyn had the weird and somewhat disturbing thought he looked like a younger version of the unfortunate German general the Major had his vampires execute in front of their eyes. "This falls well under the jurisdiction of our Navy! It's no business of people like you. Now clear off!"

"_I understand a fury in your words; But not the words,_" Caitlyn said calmly. The men stared at her. "Othello? Nobody?" She looked around. "I'm here to help. Not more, not less. Sir Penwood?"

"Yes," he said, relieved. No wonder people thought him to be a possible traitor. He just didn't have the courage to step in. "Please work with us in this, Lady Hellsing."

She smiled. "Sure. What's the situation?"

Penwood pointed to an electronic map on the wall. "Eighteen hours ago, communications were lost with our newly built Royal Navy aircraft carrier HMS Eagle on maneuvers in the Atlantic after it had broadcast a report about a helicopter of unknown origin. Presently it is sitting idle at a point north of the Netherlands, two hundred and fifty kilometers east of Hull." Penwood wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Originally this was our problem to deal with. However, here are satellite photos that were sent to us several hours ago. Have a look." He handed her a few photos. Walter whistled softly and Seras gasped. Caitlyn just looked through the photos. It was a huge swastika in a circle. The original had to be gigantic. Caitlyn pressed her lips together. Of course it could just be red paint, but she knew it was not.

Penwood sat down heavily. "Categorically this is no longer our problem. It's an act of madness."

"_Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't,_" Caitlyn said, going through the photos a second time. "Millennium." Had she really expected anything else?

"Ridiculous!" Spoiler and McDaniels snapped again. "Vampires? Nazi remnants? This little joke is wearing thin!"

"Would you believe it if you saw a man ripped to shreds live on screen by those so-called jokes?", Caitlyn interrupted them. "I know somebody who could surely organize that footage for me if you wish. Or no, easier: you want a vampire, here you are. Walter, your turn. Don't injure anyone though." She turned around, but Walter was gone.

"Where is the bloke?", an older man with a round face asked, casting nervous glances around. His name tag called him Smith. "Lady Hellsing, I don't know what her Majesty sees in you, but you are clearly in no mental state to-" He broke off with a shriek, when he was lifted off the ground from behind. A shadow wrapped lazily around him, keeping him hovering about two feet in the air. Everybody except for Penwood, Seras and Caitlyn had moved back as much as the stuffed room allowed.

Walter shadow-walked in front of the terrified man, his red eyes flashing. "Please do not say such offending things to Lady Hellsing. The Hellsing organization is _obviously_ the experts in all matters concerning the undead and occult. Will you listen to what she has to say?"

Even after five years, sometimes Caitlyn was stunned by how polite Walter could be, having heard more curses from him than she had thought the English language contained. The man made an unintelligible noise. Walter smiled brightly, flashing his fangs.

"So?"

"Y-Yes."

"Excellent." Smith crashed to the ground. It had gone dead silent. Walter politely left Caitlyn the stage.

"As I said, we're here to help," she repeated. _And I hate violence. The problem is nobody lets me act like it. _"_Now for ourself and for this time of meeting._ What do you think to do about it?"

A bespectacled officer cleared his throat, not stepping any closer to them. "Since... since the incident began we have tried several times to open communications. We've dispatched several reconnaissance planes. But once again, no reaction. We thought it was abandoned. A ghost ship."

"But?", Caitlyn asked. Millennium was behind this. That meant nothing good. They had to be careful.

"Our latest intelligence indicates one person on deck, beneath a parasol." Not only Caitlyn shot a glance to Walter, who frowned. Whoever it was, it had to be one from Millennium's premier league. Which meant they got to be good. Or had special talents. A Werwolf. Caitlyn had looked it up, the correct plural was not "Werwolfs", but "Werwölfe".

"Lady Hellsing?", Seras asked. "I... I'm not sure, but didn't Schrödinger say something about one of their officers being away from base?"

Caitlyn looked at her blankly for a moment, going over the meeting again while simultaneously trying to remember the Vatican's files. "Sure. Her name was Rip. Rita Patrizia Degener in her former life. I think."

"How do you want to know?" Penwood's voice was very quiet. He seemed more than happy she had taken this case from him.

"The Vatican's files. Rip, Rita, whatever. Just a guess. Doesn't matter. She's a huntress, I think. What did you do aside from reconnaissance?"

"Presently, two SAS squads are on approach via helicopter to assess and take control of the situation." Spoiler crossed his arms in defiance. Caitlyn felt all color leave her face.

"Order them to withdraw."

"What?!", the man snapped. "We'll have this resolved in a few minu-"

"Order them to retreat. _Now_," Caitlyn hissed. It was probably more Walter's threatening presence than her insistence, but it did the job. McDaniels rushed over to the radio.

"Hello? HQ calling in. Retreat. Immediately."

"Sir, visual confirmation of the Eagle. What's going on?"

"Retreat now," he repeated with a nervous glance back.

There was a curse on the radio. "What the hell? The A team-" The sound of ripping metal. Screams. Then the connection broke off. The men looked at each other in startled silence, uncomprehending of what had just happened.

Seras touched Caitlyn's shoulder and she realized she had been clenching her fists so hard her fingernails had left dark marks in her palms. Such skin was pretty tough, if you thought about it. To actually draw blood with your nails you would have to go with more force and that had to hurt like hell. It was just unrealistic in most cases.

"Happy now?", Caitlyn asked quietly. She wondered if the men (and women?) had families somewhere. Probably. She had to check if they were properly cared for.

"The helicopters are down," somebody on the controls announced in a shaking voice.

"The board weapons?", McDaniels almost shouted.

"No- no, Sir. The figure on the deck, we think. It was just one bullet... from a musket?" It was silent for a second. Then all hell broke loose. The leaders of this panicking bunch wanted reports, confirmation, think it was just a mistake. Caitlyn stared at the picture the satellite broadcast with a slight delay. Just a burning spot on the ocean's surface._ A man can die but once. We owe God a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind. An 't be my destiny, so; an 't be not, so. No man's too good to serve 's prince, and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next._

In this moment, Shakespeare's usually comforting words seemed to be sheer mockery.

_I'll never pause again, never stand still, Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine, Or fortune given me measure of revenge._ Too many had already died. And she had the horrible feeling they wouldn't be the last. Unless she prevented it. She and Iscariot's leader. Hopefully. Unless all he was saying and doing in front of her was just a charade. His blush certainly hadn't been, and his rapid pulse. She had to smile. He was not so much older than her. A child among all those old hands.

Her gaze fell on the photo of the huntress' painting again. She blinked.

"It's just a charade," she said. _How could I be that stupid?!_ "_All that glisters is not gold._ It's just a trick." She turned around and went for the door, just fast enough to pretend she was not running.

"Where are you going Lady Caitlyn?", Penwood asked, jumping to his feet in panic.

"Let her go," somebody, McDaniels maybe, sneered.

"They're trying to buy themselves time. Stay away from that ship, we're handling it. Rather prepare for a possible attack. Millennium won't wait for long." The doors slammed shut behind them. Unlike before, the corridor was empty. Thank God.

"Lady Hellsing, what will we do?", Seras asked.

"They're trying to trick us. The longer we take, the better for them. It's so obvious." Caitlyn quickened her pace once again, though she was not sure herself where they were going. Back home, she supposed. She could think better there than with everybody staring at her. Maybe the Vatican had some clever ideas as well. They couldn't want Millennium roaming freely either.

"So we ignore them?", Seras asked.

"No. That's too dangerous. The only bright side is, they're trapped."

"Why is that?", Seras asked, confused.

"To vampires, the sea is the same as the pits of hell's cauldron," Walter explained, looking less than pleased. "If they manage to escape the Eagle, that is where they would fall to."

"And that's the case for us too," Caitlyn added miserably. She pushed a loose strand behind her ear and opened the ponytail completely after that didn't work out.

"It's threat and besiegement. We need to get either you, Walter, or Mira on that ship. But how?"

"What about a heavy war ship?", Seras proposed quietly

"Bullshit," Caitlyn murmured, despite having to smile. "Overkill and takes too long. A small high-speed boat?" She answered herself. "A plane, a boat, the ship is heavily armed and even if not, this musket thing is their strongest defense. Not a chance we can get anyone on there without being shot down."

"To conclude, somehow I need to go there, an aircraft carrier at sea, defended by missiles, a hail of bullets and a magic weapon." Seras shrieked and quickly covered her mouth with her hands. Caitlyn winced and spun. How often did she have to tell Mira she shouldn't just appear next to her? Walter was worse, of course, but she still hated it.

"Doesn't sound very reasonable, I know," Caitlyn said with a glare.

"Lady Caitlyn?", Seras asked. "I might have an idea. It was just a rumor we heard when we were employed in America, but..."

* * *

_North Sea, Latitude 54.46, Longitude 3.15, near aircraft carrier HMS Eagle, September 21st, 2016_

"This is Alpha Leader, all units report in."

"Alpha 2, check."

"Alpha 3, check."

"In twenty seconds we will launch a coordinated strike. Commence your attack on my signal."

"Roger."

"Roger."

Seconds passed. "Fire!"

The missiles went on their way, to deliver their lethal blows to whoever was waiting on the carrier. A blue band of light swirled through the air, almost impossible to be seen. The missiles went up in flames, spraying burning metal over the ocean.

"The missiles self-destructed?", one pilot gasped.

"Impossible, they were taken out!"

"All units reform and-" The aircraft was ripped to shreds, tumbling like a drunk bumblebee to the ocean's surface.

"Alpha 2! What's wrong?!" Orders or not, the aircraft swerved to get away. Too late. Another one fell victim to the magic bullet.

"What happened Alpha 3? Respond! Alpha 3!" The leader had finally understood what a mistake he had made. Not that this helped him any longer. A thread of blue light wrapped around the aircraft. Then the screen went blank.

The three pilots leaned back, pale and trembling. Penwood wiped sweat off his forehead and looked at the young woman these three men owed their lives to. Caitlyn had her hands clenched around the table, but she was smiling.

"Do we have any footage of the carrier?", she asked. Grudgingly, the Royal Navy officers obeyed. So far, nothing. They would have to wait. Everything was in the hands of her vampire now.

"Lady Hellsing?" Caitlyn turned to see the three pilots saluting her. "RAF Flight lieutenants Palmer, Kerr and Ortiz. We want to express our thanks."

Caitlyn smiled, obviously uncomfortable. "No need to. Thank you for helping us out in this."

"If we had stuck to normal procedures, we would be dead," Ortiz said. "I would not get to go home to my little daughter's birthday. I'm very grateful for this."

"Really, in the current circumstances it would have been madness to send manned aircrafts," Caitlyn said. "That's why we have drones in the first place. Thank you for your assistance. And my greetings to your daughter."

The men saluted again and were dismissed. Caitlyn sat down, shaking so badly she almost spilled the tea that was offered to her. Penwood couldn't believe a fragile girl like that could cope with all of this. Millennium, the hostilities from every institution, the Round Table, Iscariot. He certainly would falter after a few days.

She had stormed in only fifteen minutes after she had left, asking him to make contact with the RAF. She needed something specific, a SR-71, and a distraction for the huntress on the ship. Ignoring the protest of pretty much everyone in the room, Penwood had accompanied her to meet an executive of the R&amp;D department, Leonard Cauliet. He had been just as suspicious as anyone, but Caitlyn hadn't cared, and this time the reinforcement by her butler was not needed. Cauliet accepted the authority of the Queen's trust.

Penwood was not even sure how Caitlyn knew about the SR-71, dubbed Firebird, since she had Cauliet explain its history and features to her.

The Firebird was an experimental stratospheric model, coded EXP 14L-E. Two of these reconnaissance jets were retired from active service years ago and sold from the U.S. military to the British RAF. The exterior was left like it was with the Americans, but the interior got a complete make-over. They had removed the reconnaissance facilities and retailored the plane to be a one-seater. It was built to break altitude and speed records, but by now it was not up to date anymore, so it was more for personal use. Despite being suspicious, Cauliet had no objections after Caitlyn explained it was a matter of national security to reach the Eagle.

"How do you want to land it on there? The ship is too short," Cauliet had asked, but Caitlyn was already running out, waving a cheery goodbye with the papers she had retrieved. Still, it had cost them more than a day to get everything ready. All flights closer than ten kilometers to the ship were canceled or guided around the area. The airspace was closed off for good, no matter how much the companies moaned.

Despite admitting time was of the essence, she had refused to lead any maneuver (or let anyone make a maneuver) until the action committee agreed to use drones instead of manned aircrafts. Penwood didn't think they did because she was making sense, they wouldn't listen to her arguments in the first place, because she was no expert. But they had grown tired and Penwood was silently grateful for the young Lady's stubbornness. He didn't want to be responsible for any more losses either.

And now she was sitting here, staring at the satellite video than was broadcasted to her, and listening in on the radio connecting her with her servant. The clock would soon strike nine, and night was falling quickly outside. This time, she had nobody accompanying her. Her butler was off to somewhere, which was, Penwood had to admit, a huge relief.

"Mira? Can you see the Eagle?" Her voice was almost balanced, he had to give her that.

"Yes, Master. I'll be there soon." An explosion, the grinding of metal. "It's time."

More interference. The video showed the plane getting hit and starting to tumble. "She- She's nosediving on the ship!", McDaniels gasped.

"Take heed," the vampire queen growled. "For if thou presumeth to flirt with spirits, thou shalt join them." Penwood felt a shiver run down his back and he was not the only one. Caitlyn closed her eyes. "_Revenge should have no bounds,_" she whispered.

"Indeed, my master." The vampire laughed. "Control art restriction system. Level 3, level 2, level 1. Released." It sounded like a threat. Which it was, judging from Caitlyn's face.

"Es sei, bei den Pforten der Hölle!", Mira proclaimed. There was a roar, but Penwood was not sure if it was the burning plane or the vampire. He didn't want to know.

"_They lie deadly that tell you you have good faces,_" Penwood heard Caitlyn murmur. Over the crackling of the radio, he could not be sure. "It's all up to you. Thank you. Good luck." The connection was cut off. A few seconds later, the satellite surveillance showed why.

The burning plane crashed, nose first, into the aircraft carrier. The whole scene was engulfed in a fireball. For minutes, it was silent. Everybody was watching, but in this inferno nobody could see what was happening of course.

"And now?", McDaniels snapped at Caitlyn. "That was one of our best planes. Did you plan this from the beginning?"

"Mira knows what she does. You should rather prepare for an attack. Millennium won't wait much longer. We have a few days at the most. What do I know?"

McDaniels snorted, but didn't respond, and turned back to the monitors. From somewhere, a soft melody drifted through the room, a song that had become popular with a movie franchise a few years ago. Caitlyn picked up her phone. "Hello? Who are you?"

She listened. Then she went white as a sheet. Her voice was inaudible, but Penwood could read her lips. "Thank you." She put away the phone, her body trembling. Penwood felt himself grow cold.

Her voice was that of a spooked little girl.

"They're coming," she said.

* * *

_Iscariot HQ, Vatican City, September 20th, 2016_

"You and Bishop Cornelius did not have the best relationship, I understand?"

"If you mean by that that he tried to discredit me in every situation, then yes, I think you could call it 'not having the best relationship'."

The man with the dark hair and almost black eyes didn't betray an emotion. "So he wanted to take your place, your grace?"

Enrico forced himself to smile. He managed quite convincingly, he thought, considering they were going over this question for the third time in the matter of two hours. "Not at all. He just didn't want _me_ in this position. You see, I think everybody knows Iscariot and John are some kind of rivals, which is quite a pity. Bishop Cornelius was against my... let's be real, very early promotion from the beginning." He didn't add a humorous remark like "Maybe he was right, but I'm doing my best". The charm card was wasted on these guys.

The man nodded. "Any idea who might have done this?"

"You mean except for me? Look at the list you got from his section."

The dark-haired agent frowned. "How do you know?" Finally a little fresh wind in this conversation. Even if they were just pretending to be surprised.

Enrico raised one eyebrow. "You think he's the only one getting death threats? Please. That's part of the job. As far as I remember I never uttered one though. I do understand why you would look at me first, and I'd love to make your work easier, but I'm afraid you got the wrong person." He pretended to look at the time. "If you would excuse me, I've got important preparations to make." He stood up to show them the way out. The dark-haired agent looked at his partner, who hadn't said a word in two hours. They stood up.

"Thank you for your time, your Grace."

About time they would leave. It was almost midday, and he had barely managed to get anything done. The cardinals all over the world were ready to take over should Millennium turn out to be wired in every government. A few moments Enrico had thought about calling his parents once again, but they knew what to do and he really had no time for that right now. He had finally set up the program that would eventually track down Millennium, and redirected the results to his phone, but that was about it. Just as he was done those two men in black had come in and started what they probably perceived as an interrogation.

He would depart for the French coast tomorrow, where he would meet the crusaders of the knight orders. The paladins of Iscariot were going directly to London the next midday. Not an awful lot of rest for Heinkel, then. She had come home in the middle of the last night, and should come in to give a short report on what she had found soon. Not that he was worried about her. She would never miss such a battle in her life, and as one of their best paladins, she had every right to be there. They needed all power they could get.

"Just to satisfy my curiosity: How did he die?", Enrico asked.

"Some of his pain medication was replaced with rat poison."

Enrico frowned, playing confused. "One should think he would have tasted the difference."

The agent nodded. "That is one of the main points we try to explain."

"Then good luck," Enrico said with a shrug of his shoulders. The two agents looked at him sharply.

"Any idea you would like to share, your Grace?"

"It's nothing. I just couldn't help thinking that maybe something in the scheme went wrong. But of course, the dead don't normally answer. At least not those in your jurisdiction."

He showed the agents of Section II out and returned to his office. Great. That was done for - for now. Not really a surprise that an investigation was opened. Cornelius was an old hand, an important figure for many years. To go out like that – a cunning little plan. Enrico had given as many hints as he could, maybe Section II would be occupied long enough for him to bring the crusade to a success. Well, to be exact, no matter how the crusade ended, he would be beyond worrying about this case. Whatever Cornelius didn't succeed in doing, it had come too late. "You should have dealt with me long before, old friend," Enrico said, amused.

"What?" He looked up to see Lisa standing in the door, a tablet with steaming cups in her hands.

"Nothing." She set down the tablet and Enrico took a cup. Not too hot anymore, and just the right amount of cocoa and milk. Perfect. "You're a godsend, you know that?"

Lisa smiled, but only briefly. "So Cornelius is dead?", she asked.

"More than the damned Nazis." He raised his gaze at the white ceiling. You'd think a shady organization like Iscariot would be established in a somewhat more sinister building. But no, he even had quite a nice view. "You have to give him that: Rat poison? He's clever. Overestimated himself a bit, I suppose."

Lisa nodded slowly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Enrico looked at her blankly for a moment. "Didn't I?" She shook her head. "Guess I forgot then. It's going down all at the same time. By the way, I'm going to France tomorrow. Be so nice and take care everything here stays in order while so many of us are gone."

Lisa reacted just like he had expected: Indignated. "I'm not staying here."

"I need someone to take my place while we're gone - " She didn't even let him finish, but jumped to her feet and stared him directly in the eyes. Enrico was not surprised to see her angry about being left behind, but that was not it. She was not irritated, she was furious, and terrified.

"I'm. Not. Staying. Here," she repeated.

There was a knock on the door and Heinkel walked in.

"Am I interrupting something?", she asked, wavering between confusion and a joke. The siblings were inches from each other and Lisa looked ready to rip out someone's throat. She sat down.

"Not at all. We were discussing something. Want some hot chocolate?"

"Would be stupid to say no." The paladin sat down and took a sip. "Awesome. Thanks."

Enrico leaned back and crossed his legs. "So, what did you find?"

Heinkel gave a short summary about what had happened in the club, from how they checked on it first, got in, and then how they fought.

In her opinion, the night club was one of many "institutions" Millennium used to gather blood for sustaining their vampires. Enrico agreed. That was the only thing that made sense. He listened up when she came to the point where Victoria seemed to be caught in some kind of trance.

"She saw the night her parents died," Heinkel said. She finished the hot chocolate and sighed. "Seriously, I'm still pissed I let that bitch get away. I screwed up. Sorry."

"It's fine," Enrico said.

Heinkel raised an eyebrow. That was about the last thing she had expected. "Seriously?"

"We heard about her. Zorin Blitz. She's one of the so-called "werewolves" of Millennium. Their officers, I suppose. We will take care of her soon anyway. Her powers could be a problem, though, if she can use them on groups. How is Victoria?"

"In school, I guess," Heinkel said. Grinning, she added: "Which probably means she's sleeping."

"You don't plan on taking her to London?"

Heinkel looked at him like he had just suggested she might be a Martian. "No way. She's on a good way, but we're facing an army. I'm not taking a kid to war."

Enrico raised his hands. "Just a question. No need to jump at my throat."

"Sorry." She sighed. "Am I being too protective?"

"I think you're right," Lisa said. "If she was my trainee, no matter how advanced, she shouldn't get involved in this." Enrico glared at her. That was exactly the reason why he didn't want her to come. But that moment of looking into her eyes had already told him; he had lost. His last chance would be leaving her in France.

"The others are preparing?", Enrico asked.

"Yup. We'll start tomorrow at noon, okay?"

"Sounds good. Anything else?"

"Anderson asked if we could come to the orphanage. He said he wanted to tell us something." Heinkel shrugged her shoulders. "Don't look at me. I don't know. Anyway, I gotta go, I have stuff to do before I can have a relaxing evening with Yumie and Vicky before the big battle."

Iscariot's director nodded and Heinkel waved them goodbye before she left. Enrico looked at the clock. Half past one.

He stood up and picked up the empty cups. "What do you think about lunch before we head down to Ferdinant Luke's?"

Lisa shot him a dreary glance he couldn't really place. What was wrong with her all of a sudden? She stood up and followed him. "Sounds good."

They headed for the exit, and bumped right into Giorgio Panini, one of the newer paladins. Enrico was not too busy for learning the name of everybody who managed to get through the training, but he remembered him especially well because of his twin brother. The chubby, nervous, brilliant Cristoforo in Section IV. Who still had Enrico's sword. How could he possibly have forgotten about that? It had only been four days, which had been incredibly busy of course, but...

"Chief Maxwell?"

"Giorgio. How can I help you?" It was always good to show everybody you knew their names. Helped a lot for the team play.

The young man seemed nervous anyway. "My brother asked me to give you this." He handed Enrico an envelope.

"Thank you. That was all?" The young paladin nodded and said a hasty goodbye. That these newbies were all so jumpy. He was not going to eat anyone. The rules might be strict, but fair. In any case he had Lisa taking care of that.

He opened the envelope. In there was a crumpled sheet with what looked like grease stains on it. The message was written in sharpie and sounded excited.

_DONE! Please come asap! It's incredible!_

That was better news than expected. Now everything was falling in place and he was even rid of Cornelius. It could not be more perfect.

"What are you waiting for? I'm hungry," Lisa complained. He looked at the grimy paper again. He definitely needed to clean the sword when he got it. And he wanted it right now, if he was being honest. Lisa grabbed his arm and dragged him along, making his decision to miss lunch for it obsolete. Enrico complied. He ripped the paper to shreds while walking and tossed them into a waste basket on the street. "Didn't like the news?", Lisa asked.

"On the contrary. Hey, you know what, I need to go to Section IV after lunch. I've got a surprise, but for tomorrow." Lisa raised an eyebrow and nodded. She was less enthusiastic than he had hoped and expected. Lisa hated waiting, but loved surprises. So no complaints?

"I'm a bit disappointed," he admitted.

She shrugged her shoulders and dragged him into the direction where she wanted to get them something to eat. Enrico barely looked at it and also was too absent to listen to his sister. He wondered what the sword would be like, how it would work, and if he could use it. He had trouble with fencing in general, so it didn't look good for him. And in the matter of one day?

But in his curiosity these arguments seemed laughable. He couldn't wait. Cristoforo surely had not been so excited for no reason. So the moment he sensed he could get away, he said goodbye to his sister, promising she would be amazed by what he wanted to show her later. Lisa didn't look all too convinced, but let him go.

So this time, as far as he remembered for the first time since that one initial visit when he became Chief of Iscariot, Enrico entered the main quarters of Andrew in bright daylight, and for some reason that seemed official. The corridors were deserted. The door opened all by itself again, as did every one of them. He found Cristoforo in the same room he had met him first. To his surprise, the room was perfectly clean, and the young engineer was shaven and wore a clean dark shirt and ironed trousers. "Monsignore." His eyes were sparkling. He had even forgotten his nervousness.

"Where is it?"

Cristoforo hurried to the desk, and picked up the sheathed sword. Almost like a holy artifact in a mass, he handed it to Enrico. It didn't look much different than before, the bishop thought. The metal and gems had been polished and gleamed in the afternoon sun. It might be a bit heavier than before, but that was no big surprise.

"Would you like to test it?", Cristoforo asked, just as excited, but not as good at hiding it.

"Sure." The boy hesitated, then pointed at Enrico's belt. "It would be easiest if you put it on."

"Right." Enrico did so. The weight was something to get used to, but not worse than a fully loaded gun. It felt good. It felt right, for some reason, like it belonged to him. Which it did, from now on. Well, technically Yumie had found it... he dismissed the thought. That was his weapon. Yumie had her own.

He wondered if Caitlyn... no. No, no, no. He had to stop thinking about her like that. The only relevant question was, how much did Britain know? Were they prepared? There were so many leaks on both sides, he couldn't be sure if they knew about the Ninth Crusade. That was all that mattered. His hour was about to come and he would not miss it for some... some... stupid, childish crush. There, he had admitted it. He had a crush on the pretty redhead. Didn't change a thing. She would hate him after this anyway, so why bother with trying to be nice beyond any practical means?

"Monsignore?" Enrico blinked and found he was still in the HQ of Section IV. Cristoforo offered him a broad black bracelet. "There's a chip embedded for activating the additional functions. You might want to try that." Enrico nodded and put on the bracelet. Looked like something a metal fan would wear. Cristoforo squirmed under the skeptical glance.

"We didn't find anything else. It was all a bit of a rush."

"Does it work through clothing?", Enrico asked.

"Yes. We made sure of that."

Enrico nodded and drew the sword. To his amazement, it began to shimmer slightly, like an electrical current running over the blade and creating a pale blue aura.

"We- we don't know why this is. It just is," Cristoforo explained nervously. "The sword is old, much older than we initially thought. Monsignore, may I ask of you to return it to us once the... the crusade is over? We would like to run a few more tests. You can have it back whenever you wish, of course," he added hastily.

Enrico smiled, testing the balance of the sword in his hand and taking a few test swings. That felt so much better than in his training for some reason. He was going to ask how to activate the "additional" functions, but his wrist already brushed over the sheath. He saw the gems light up. Now it really looked like there was an electrical current running over the metal straps around the sheath. He wasn't sure where to look first, because something similar was happening to the sword itself, like on some sci-fi device unfolding a wall of blue light. Then everything went black.

* * *

"Monsignore! Monsignore Maxwell, are you alright?" Enrico blinked, looking into a neon lamp on the ceiling. How the hell had he gotten here? Here, like the corner of the room.

"What?" A round, panicked face came into his view. Enrico somehow managed to sit up. Ouch.

"What happened?" But then he already remembered. The recoil had been a _tiny_ bit stronger than expected. Cristoforo helped him to his feet.

"Are you alright?", he asked again. "I'm so sorry, I should have warned you."

Enrico shook his head, partially to get rid of the dizziness, partially to dismiss the boy's apology. He would get bruises from this, but that was certainly worth it. "That's incredible. How the hell did you manage that in four days?"

"We... were lucky. Like, really lucky. We don't understand it ourselves, to be honest." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"What do you mean 'we'? Where is everybody, for that matter?"

Cristoforo sat down at the surveillance screens. The whole building seemed to be empty.

"The HQ was moved temporarily because of the preparations. I... me and my friends who helped me on this... we've been suspended two weeks ago. The chief thinks we're traitors. He doesn't know I still got all codes."

Enrico frowned, admiring the glistening metal. "I'll see to that once I'm back. It would be a crime to waste your talent. What about your friends?"

"Michele Rizzoli," the young man said after a moment's hesitation. "He ran the tests. A-And Anthony Blake, he programmed everything."

Enrico nodded absently. He slid the bracelet over the top of the sheath again. This time, he was prepared and stayed on his feet. It was not perfect, he needed training, but he could manage until tomorrow. "How did you manage to store all that energy?"

"The batteries are the most powerful we could fit in. It also recharges itself. The stronger the impact, the more energy is absorbed. ...That's what the experiment showed. We don't know how that is even possible."

There was electricity running over the bands on the sheath, even the blade of the sword, lighting it up in blue sparks. That was impossible. It defied all laws of physic, not even counting the fact that Enrico had just touched the current and felt nothing, not even a tickling. That much power should be able to fry him.

"Sir... You are the expert in this and the owner, so we didn't want to do anything without your permit, but... we were discussing involving Section III. The sword is older than we initially thought and works... Monsignore, this is not physics. That's something else. It's some kind of magic."

Enrico raised an eyebrow at him. "Magic?"

"H-Holy magic, of course. Not some devil's work," Cristoforo stuttered. "It might be an artifact." He didn't need to add what he thought: And we modernized it. Changing anything, even the tiniest bit, about a relic without permission was a reason to be accused of heresy. In comparison, this was a sacrilege. _Nothing happened until somebody finds out._

Enrico gave the boy a bright smile, already putting on his coat again, without bothering to take off the sword. It vanished under the black fabric. He needed to get used to it anyway.

"You, my friend, and your friends as well, deserve more recognition. I'll see what I can do once I'm back. Bernard is not an idiot, as far as I know." He grinned. "And even if, Iscariot has always a place for extraordinary talents. Don't forget to ask you friend Blake about that facial recognition program. I'd love to hear about it."

"Of course, Sir," Cristoforo replied, mildly confused. "E... Grazie mille."

"The least I can do. Ciao." With that, Enrico stormed out the door and left the young engineer behind. Anderson had asked them to come to the orphanage anyway. The paladins were all at their specific homes or wherever to calm down before the action would start. Millennium's attack could commence any time now. So Enrico would have the gym of the real base all to himself. Time to practice. For that matter, he just noticed his hand didn't even hurt anymore. After the little mishap yesterday that was a miracle.

The weather was nice, he could walk to the orphanage. It wasn't that far. He checked his phone. Still no news that his tracking program had found Millennium. It had been a very hasty set-up at the beginning, and had been finished very late, the next day. Maybe he had screwed it up. What a disgrace. That wouldn't have happened to the boy who hacked into the Canadian SIS in 2003. But not even that managed to dampen his euphoria. He still had all the usual channels and it was not that the Vatican was threatened. The Vatican was the threat.

Hopefully, Caitlyn wouldn't get hurt during the attack, until Iscariot got her into custody. He had to issue that order before they departed. Alive, of course, and unharmed. He had to shake his head about his own foolishness. That woman had screwed up his head pretty good. He would deal with it once all of this was over.

Renaldo, who was more adept to modern technology, had written him a message concerning exactly this. The British aircraft carrier HMS Eagle had obviously fallen to Millennium. Hellsing was out to deal with it somehow. They were currently organizing an aircraft to get the vampire Vladimira on that ship. Enrico frowned and almost walked right into a street lamp while looking at his phone. He stuffed it back in his pocket and paid attention to his path from now on.

Sending the vampire on the ship was like putting her into a cell. Sure, Hellsing still had its other pet monster, but it was fairly obvious the butler was by far not as powerful as "Alucard".

Surely Caitlyn could not be that stupid, right? She would not send her most powerful, and bitterly needed, weapon away with an enemy waiting right at her front door. That could only be the Major's plan and Caitlyn was too smart to fall for it. Right?

Then again, she was under stress, she was very young, and didn't really fit her position anyway. She would send Vladimira. That only made it easier for Iscariot.

Enrico quickened his pace, a smile on his lips and his steps lighter than ever. Everything was falling into place, was going great, despite small setbacks. He was too clever to let that stop him. Soon, he would be the Vatican's new hero, and go another step to becoming one of the most powerful men in the world. Britain would belong to the true servants of God. And if Caitlyn was clever, which she certainly was, she would yield and become a Catholic. She wanted to be friends? Very well, why not? It would add the final touch to an already perfect success.

Caitlyn and him. Like that was a thing.

* * *

Es sei, bei den Pforten der Hölle! = So be it, by the gates of Hell! (a quote from Der Freischütz; a very good opera, by the way.)


	19. Black Water

**Chapter 18: Black Water**

_North Sea, HMS Eagle, September21st, 2016_

Flames cast their red, flickering light in the sky. They breathed hot in her face, clawing, tearing, biting at the metal of the ship. The command structure was burning, crumbling to pieces in front of her eyes. The deck was ripped to shreds, the SR-71 sticking out of it like a huge cross, pointing out every last fault of her long life. The gates of hell were open, casting their flames into the world. It was waiting for her. The Major had been right all along.

In the end, Zamiel was coming to get her.

Rip had run for so long, had avoided him so often. In her native city of Frankfurt, in Paris, in Poland, on the way to South America, when the war was lost for the German Reich. The doctor had turned her into a vampire and her nightmares had stopped. For seventy years, she thought she had been safe. But safety was an illusion and the devil was patient. Nobody could run forever. Not even a vampire. Her companions were burning, ripped to shreds, abandoning her. Maybe they would find the peace they were craving.

Zamiel appeared. The devil of the hunt. Rip van Winkle was not really surprised to see her doom was a woman. Figures had no meaning to the eternal. She had known for a while, ever since the Major decided it was time. And despite her will to fight for her family, her battalion, her insides had shivered. Brazil had been good to them, she had seen a lot, and met many she liked and missed now. But that was how the world spun. And her world was about to crumble.

The tall figure in the long coat stepped out of the flames, unscorched, unhurried, majestic. Rip could only stare up at the beautiful, pale face with the cruel eyes, her musket lying uselessly over her shoulder. The weapon of Samiel would not help her anymore.

She could hear the Major, so many years ago, when she was just a young girl that had been taken in by the Millennium project, eager to serve her country, easy to impress.

"A magnificent ability, lieutenant. No doubt the magic bullets of the legendary demonic hunter. Der Freischütz, ja? Certainly this is the devil's own deed. But it vould be best you kept something in mind, lieutenant."

Zamiel was coming toward her, illuminated by the wreckage of the aircraft behind her. The huntress loved flying, always had. Flying and hunting. Those were her passions and talents, she had brought to Millennium, to escape her own meaningless life at home.

"Do you know the finale of Der Freischütz, my dear Rita? At the end of the opera, Caspar is taken to hell by the hunter demon king Samiel, whom he had dallied with. Then Caspar's corpse is cast into the wolf's glen. For if thou presumeth to flirt with spirits, thou shalt join them. Take heed, lieutenant."

Zamiel was reaching for her. Soon, she would take the huntress to the flames of hell, to her worst nightmares and endless agony. She had thought she had fled him, had escaped, so many years ago. But of course this had been just a happy illusion. She could hear the smirk in the Major's voice. "Samiel just may appear before you too."

Rip tried to scramble backwards, away from the figure with the glowing red eyes, her doom. She couldn't. She was frozen in place, only able to whimper. Zamiel's hand reached for her face.

Then blood splattered from Zamiel's head. She was ripped around when more bullets tore through her body.

"Lieutenant!" That was the voice of her second-in-command, her old friend Joachim Drews, her loyal men. Rip was crying, but now all she felt was relief and gratefulness. She hastily scrambled away when her men began to fire at the shredded figure. Bullets pierced the air.

"Panzerfaust, los!", Joachim roared. The left side of his face was covered in blood from his forehead, but he helped her to her feet. "Lieutenant!" Rip couldn't stop shaking, she just couldn't. All her strength had left her, all will to fight. They could not win. Joachim shook her harshly. "Pull yourself together!", he barked, no pleaded. "I though you vere a Werwolf!" After all those years this was what he told her. A Werwolf. They had survived the war together, had been friends, had fought for their lives, when their friends died, all those they cared for. And then they went to South America and things changed. "Lieutenant!"

She looked at him with lifeless, hopeless eyes. "It's not much longer to Herr Major's orders! Until then! Somehow ve must..."

"It's too late," Rip said softly. "The Major will not help us."

"Very right, freaks," a voice growled. "Products of madness."

The men spun. There was barely anything left but shreds of flesh and bones, but the figure was reforming. "Feuer! Angriff!", her old friend roared. Her loyal men attacked. They always did. The spirit of Millennium. "Guns are useless! Use hand grenades!"

Another explosion ripped at the deck. Rip ran. She huddled in a corner, wrapped her arms around her musket, and cried. She could hear screams, and more gunfire, and explosions, and she cried. "Samiel," she whimpered. It was over. "Samiel." She would come for her soul. The huntress was done for. Rip cried. For everything she had lost. For her own foolishness. She wasn't even able to feel any more rage at the Major for abandoning her, or the others for abandoning her. Hadn't Jolene always said this? Trust no one. Neither your friends nor your enemies. Maybe because of that she had always been better off.

Her alarm clock, that smiling, funny pink thing, was ringing, and ringing, and ringing. The time of the Major's orders was here. She already knew them, of course. Her men were gone, gone to Walhalla, where she would never see them. Her place was in Zamiel's Hell.

A foot smashed the alarm clock to pieces. Rip shrieked, then hastily covered her mouth with her hands. She spun, looking upon her eternal damnation. Zamiel smiled, wind blowing her black hair out of her face.

"Now, what will you do?", she asked softly. "What will you do, Rip van Winkle?" She whimpered, looking over the inferno of the ship she had conquered. Her men were lying in their blood. Her friends were gone. Joachim's cap fluttered on a distorted steel beam.

For a moment, she couldn't move, just clutched her musket, as if it would help her. She didn't want to die. Damn the Major, damn everybody. She would not go down easy. She was a Werwolf.

Rip took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, then put them on again. She saw Zamiel smile, and that made her angry. _You planned all of this, Herr Major, didn't you? I am just a sacrifice._

A hunter's life was never easy. She would not go down crying in the corner like a small child.

"Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor. My bullet punishes all without distinction!", she hissed. The ship had gone eerily quiet and the shot echoed like in a tomb. Her bullet ripped through the red clothed body, changed course, hit again, again, again. Zamiel stumbled, was pushed, to the ledge of the ship. The black waves were roaring under them.

"Fall," she hissed, her teeth gritted. "Fall! Fall and perish!" Just one more hit.

Zamiel stopped. Her bullet stopped. Zamiel chuckled. _No! That's... impossible!_ Zamiel slowly raised her head. The left side of her face was scorched and ripped, but between her teeth shimmered something. "No," Rip whimpered.

"Look what I caught," Zamiel said. She bit down and the bullet sprung into a thousand glittering pieces, raining down like snow. Rip shrieked and stumbled back, only to find her back to the wall. A fist connected with her jaw and she fell, her glasses splintering on the floor. Then the same hand closed around her neck and she was picked up, held against the wall. No matter how much she struggled, it would not help her.

Zamiel grinned at her and picked up the fallen musket. Rip froze, only stared at her. The musket pressed against her chest, harder and harder, until it pushed through clothes and flesh and bones. The huntress screamed, tasting blood, trying to struggle. Or at least relocate the wound to her heart. She would die anyway. The best way would be a fast death. But that was not what Zamiel had in mind for her. Zamiel looked her in the eyes, smiling softly, or at least she thought so. Her vision was blurred by tears of pain and desperation. A fire had begun to consume her, the center right in her chest, just left of her heart.

Her musket, that magic weapon, dug into the wall behind her, holding her upright. Zamiel grinned, then bent down and began to lick up the blood she had spilled. Rip couldn't scream anymore, could barely speak, her mind was blurred by pain. But she could see the full red moon hanging overhead, casting its unearthly light down on them. The perfect night to be their last.

She would never see the sun again. Rip missed it, just feeling the warmth on her body, without her protective parasol. Shadowy hands, a dozen of them, groped for her and she wanted to scream, but only managed a groan and a bloody cough. Zamiel grabbed her, forced her head up, and buried her teeth in the huntress' neck. She screamed, despite not having known she could still do that. Her mind had accepted the pain in her chest, and now her neck was ripped to pieces as well.

"You've done well, lieutenant." She couldn't see anything, but she knew the voice. She had heard a million speeches and orders from him. He had taken her in more than seventy years ago, had made her respect and admire him through blood, and death, and madness. And the worst part was, she could not hate him, not even now. They would all die like Tubalcain and her, not shedding a tear for their fallen friends. "The mission is a success. A total one." She could hear the Major smile. Zamiel was listening closely, but never stopping at drinking the huntress' blood.

"However many stones are thrown into ze vater's surface, however much a shadow is tread upon, neither the surface nor the shadow vanish. That is how such things vork. It's the river of Death." Rip would like to tell the Major he could put his river where the sun never shone.

"In it, life, death, everything is a hoax," the Major continued. "Immortality, invincibility, unbeatableness, ultimate strength all utterly absurd." Rip wanted to say something, no matter what, and couldn't.

"But ve vill overthrow him. By the sacrifice of your repatriation, ve vill overthrow Alucard." Zamiel growled, a wild, inhuman sound. Rip began to feel numb. Her body seemed to be fading. She had lost control over it the moment Zamiel had her in her claws, but now her body seemed to vanish, literally. Thankfully, the pain began to subside with it. She vaguely heard the Major and the Doctor arguing. She had fulfilled her mission and her body would not be incinerated. As if that made a difference now. Her body was fading out, shadows swallowing her in whole.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Leutnant van Winkle," the Major said. "Ve'll meet again in Walhalla."_ If only_, Rip thought vaguely. She heard the others say goodbye, her friend Zorin, the Last Battalion, even Schrödinger. She wondered if Captain Hans was saying goodbye as well, despite being unable to say it out loud. All those she had seen as her friends, her only family. They were smiling. Nobody was mourning her. It was the privilege of the dead not to care.

"Ciao, Rip," Schrödinger said brightly, like she was leaving for a weekend holiday.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Rip!", another voice shouted. She sounded sad, close to tears, even. But that was impossible. She was gone, for fifty years. No even in Millennium everybody was able to cheat death.

Hundreds of voices intoned: "Sieg Heil!" But maybe she was just imagining all of it. Blackness swallowed her and Rip was gone.

Mira held the blood-coated musket, shimmering in the moonlight. The cat boy was watching her with an amused expression. Mira dropped the weapon, threw her head back and laughed.

* * *

_A town near Edinburgh, Scotland, 1967_

"It's been really long since we last came here," the girl said. The priest briefly shot her a glance and redirected his eyes at the shining, slippery road again.

"Aye, aboot ten years."

The girl twirled a flaxen strand around her finger and looked over the highlands stretching around them, only vaguely visible in a thick gray curtain of rain. "I barely remember anything."

The priest laughed. "Sure. Ye were a wee little kid. Nae even five years old."

The girl turned away from the window and beamed at the priest. "Father, thank you so much for taking me here!"

He shook his head. "It's yer birthday."  
"It's your father's birthday," the girl corrected. The priest smiled and shrugged his shoulders. The car came to a halt in front of a pretty house at the edge of the village. The priest killed the engine and they ran through the pouring rain to the door. It was flung open before they could even knock.

"Oh, ma dear son!", the woman beamed and hugged him. She had to get on her toes to even reach his neck and when he returned the hug, her feet dangled an inch over the floor. He set her down again and her eyes fell on the girl hovering nervously in the background. Her mouth formed a surprised O. "Is this..." She trailed off, then suddenly hugged the girl, who didn't really know what to say. "Darling, ye hae grown so big! Hou lang has it been? Ten years? What ae pretty lassie ye've become!" And immediately they were ushered through to the birthday table. The priest handed over a present and began talking to his relatives, but after their arrival, the actual birthday, his Father's, was quickly pushed aside.

The girl had to be introduced, as it was clear she could not be the priest's daughter. His mother insisted on sitting next to her, chattering constantly. She was the center of all attention, but she put up well, making conversation, telling about her home in the Roman orphanage and what she wanted to do with her life. She would become a nun, maybe even work in the orphanage herself. This caused quite the disbelief among even the most pious of the family. She had a talent for children, the priest explained, helping the adults whenever she could.

Ever since she had come to the orphanage at the age of four, after her mother had died in a car crash and her heathen father didn't want anything to do with her, she had been his little angel. A sometimes annoying little angel, who flitted after him all the time, so that he had no choice but to bring her when traveling to Scotland ten years ago. Ten years. Dear God, how time was passing.

"Ye look just the same ye ayeways have, son," his father said, making him jump.

"Aye, " the priest replied, not having any better answer.

The party went on and on, until the middle of the night. But the girl had already fallen asleep on the sofa long before. The priest had brought her to bed and waited a few minutes until he was sure she would be fine. Then he returned to his family. It had been a long time since he last saw them. His work kept him away from his home country, his vow to the Lord bound him. But now he realized while he himself might have a lot more time, his family had not. He was an only child, there were only his parents and their siblings, but they had no children either. His grandparents had gone in the arms of the Lord a while ago, and he had not even found the time to visit their funerals. Nobody was reproaching him for it. But he was. Was it so wrong for a servant of God to want time with his family as long as he still could?

* * *

The next morning, the girl awoke, still fully dressed, and the first in the house. She washed and changed her clothes and quietly sneaked down into the kitchen to wait there for the others to wake up. But when she entered, her teacher's mother was already up and preparing breakfast.

"Top o' the morning, dear," she said quietly. "Want some breakfast?"

The girl nodded and chose a bit of bacon, toast, something she thought to recognize as porridge and a glass of orange juice. That was the least she could get away with. She was not used to having so much for breakfast. After a while, the priest's mother let it go and they just sat there, hearing the rain had stopped and a beautiful day was preparing in the east.

"Ye ken, ye're like the granddaughter we cannae have," the woman said. "O' course he cannae have kids, and that's fine, but... Ah'm glad ye're here."

The girl looked down on the table. "I'm also glad I'm here," she answered truthfully. "Thank you for being so kind."

"Promise me something."

The girl looked up and met soft green eyes. The formerly blond hair, or so she remembered it to be, had turned to gray, but she was still pretty. Maybe not tall, that was rather the father's most obvious trait, but strong like her son. "Yes?", the girl asked carefully.

"Talk him intae visiting us more often."

The girl had to smile. "Sure."

"Ah hope ye will be with him then," the woman added.

"Guid morning," the priest said when he entered the kitchen, surprised to find his protegee and his mother chatting over the breakfast table. The girl jumped up and hugged him.

"Father, can I look around a bit? It's not raining anymore."

The priest looked at the bright morning sky outside. "Ah suppose it's not. Fine, Ah'll talk ae bit more wi' the others before we return tae Rome. But put on warm clothes. Dinnae want ye tae get ae cold, aye?"

"Yes, Father," the girl said immediately, and ran upstairs to get her pullover, rain jacket and gumboots. She didn't take long to put everything on, pulled her hair back in a ponytail and ran downstairs again. Everybody else seemed to be sleeping. The priest and his mother awaited her at the end of the stairs.

"Ah'richt," he said, smiling. "Be careful not tae fall intae ae loch."

"Yes, Father," the girl replied dutifully.

"And tak care o' the kelpies," the priest's mother joked. The girl nodded and giggled, then opened the door and waved at them while walking down the path past the parked car.

"Ye really have tae gae back? Ye just arrived yesterday," the mother sighed.

"Aye. Ah'm sairy, but the orphanage needs me. But Ah'll visit again soon."

"Will ye bring the lassie?"

"Sure, why nae?" Said girl left hearing range and suddenly started to run. The highlands were wide and green in front of her, sprinkled with small lakes. There was so much to see.

Laughing out loud, she ran over the wet grass, splashing mud everywhere. She jumped over a gray stone wall and cut through a flock of sheep that bleated at her. There was a shepherd on the other side of the flock with his dogs, but the cursing and barking from animal and owner soon turned into a good-humored greeting. They sat down on the low stone wall and talked for a few minutes. He told her walls like these were everywhere, because cattle was still one of the main trades up here. The Scotsmen and women had just taken the stones they could get and that was why the walls were made of these rough gray stones. The girl listened eagerly and could not help enthusing about the wonderful country. She wished she could stay here a bit longer. But as her teacher had said, maybe they would come back soon. That would be great. She would like to have a real family.

"Ye ken, lass, there's a beautiful loch richt there," the shepherd, an elderly man who had known the priest's family all his life, told the girl. "There're nae cliffs, so ye cannae fall in just like that. Want tae go and have ae keek?"

"Sure, thank you!", the girl said and jumped to her feet. The man helped her over the wall and she took off, waving happily.

"And tak care o' the kelpies," the man called after her with a laugh.

"I will!", she shouted back. The name triggered a faint memory, of a story that had been told to her a long time ago. Maybe even when she had been here ten years ago? She couldn't exactly remember what the name meant.

The man looked after her, until the girl swerved to avoid another wall. "Hey, ye're running in the wrong direction!", he called. But she didn't seem to hear him and vanished behind a hill. Sighing, the shepherd picked up his rod. "Sebastian, Dexter, ye stay here, lads. Ah'll better tell the old misses the lass is striving so far. Before she falls intae ae loch."

Panting, the girl stopped on a hill. Under her stretched a strip of grass that might have been a paddock once. But the fence was broken and withered, the grass sprawling everywhere without anyone taking care of it, not even the paddock's inhabitants. The girl looked around and frowned. It did not exactly match what she had imagine when the shepherd had said there was a beautiful loch near. There was a small lake here, but it was scarcely more than a big puddle. The shore was covered in algae and dirt, the water was dark, impossible to see through. The only thing missing were trees to cast an oppressive shadow. But no, the day was clear and beautiful. The sun was rising and it was getting warmer by the minute.

Something neighed and the girl jumped. A beautiful white horse trotted slowly over the dark, untended grass. The fur was so bright it seemed to glow in the sun and its eyes were shimmering bronze. It stopped a few meters away from the girl and looked at her. The girl hesitated, the horse springing some old, distant memory. It didn't evade her when she stepped forward and stroked it. The fur was cool and incredibly soft. The horse gently nudged her with its nose and she leaned her cheek against its flank.

* * *

The priest looked at his watch. They should probably start their journey, or otherwise they would come back in the middle of the night. The sun was almost all the way up and his protegee had not returned yet. That was not like her at all. Then again, the landscape was magnificent and she had never been here, at least not in an age able to appreciate it.

"Ah'll better gae and fetch her."

"Sure, dear. Ah'll make ye lunch for the road, aye?"

The priest nodded and began to walk in the direction he had seen the girl run into. Maybe he met somebody who had seen her. Although he did not want to admit it, some nagging premonition had settled in his stomach. The highlands were so big, it would take weeks to search in them for one girl. And there were so many lochs she could easily vanish in. He should have given her directions.

_She's a big lass, she's responsible and can tak care o' herself. Dinnae be ridiculous._

He heard somebody call his name and turned around. The shepherd had not seen him in at least two decades, but the priest had indeed barely changed. The shepherd had aged visibly, but looked still like himself.

"Did ye see a young lass, aboot thon height, red hair, wearing a rain coat?", the priest asked.

"Aye, Ah was just coming by tae tell ye aboot it. Ah told her hou tae get to Loch Emerich, but she took ae wrong turn Ah think. She was headed for Loch Tabse, Ah think. Hey, whit's wrong?"

The priest didn't answer, but pressed on, with all the strength his body had to sprint. He might not be too late yet.

He came to a skittering halt on top of the hill. The lake was as dark and lifeless as he remembered. But no, there was a shimmer at the bank. He ran down the hill, taking giant leaps on his long legs. The shimmer turned into a white horse, a beautiful stallion with bronze eyes standing peacefully on the remains of the paddock. The girl was stroking it with a dreamy expression on her face.

The priest called her name. "Get away fae there!" She didn't react, but the horse's head shot up and it bared its teeth at him. The girl's hand sunk into its flank, that had begun to melt in gray algae. The priest called her name again, more desperate this time. The girl looked around.

"Hey, wait, I know that from somewhere," she murmured. She felt like she had just awoken from a deep sleep. She heard her teacher call her name again and stared into the horse's face, now only hung with gray, dead algae instead of a majestic mane, the flesh melted away revealing the bones and teeth and black eyes. The girl shrieked in terror and tried to pull away, but her hand had vanished in the liquid flesh of the creature. It began to walk to the shore, inevitably pulling the girl with her, and waded into the water.

"Let me go!", she yelled and tried desperately to pull her hand out, but she couldn't even feel it anymore. The kelpie pulled on, much stronger than she was, its hind legs transforming into something that might have been a mermaid tail, but colored an unhealthy gray, its fin ripped and tattered. She was splashing through water that already went to her waist. The kelpie neighed again. It sounded like a roar and a triumphant laugh at the same time. The girl turned, throwing a longing glance at the shore, which was getting ever further away.

The priest ran even faster, tossing off his long coat while doing so. He could see the girl struggling to breathe, struggling to stay over the water's surface, then she vanished. It took the priest only seconds to get there, but when he plunged into the water, the lake already lay just as still as it had before. A passer-by would not have noticed anything stranger than the tattered grass and oppressing atmosphere.

The priest dived, only taking a second to gather his breath. The water was icy and pitch black. A small loch should not be this deep. Strings wrapped around the priest's arms and legs, trying to hinder him from getting any further. They had to be here somewhere. It didn't end that fast. The loch was not big enough. He searched and searched, finding nothing but plants and mud. The kelpie would hide somewhere. Maybe it hoped he would die in the loch in his frantic search, so it could eat him as well. The priest could only ignore his body's need for air so long. He had no choice.

Something wrapped around him. There they were! He broke free and touched the ground, felt rocks. Suddenly his hand broke through and air rushed over it. His head broke the water's surface and he gasped. How did he get up here? He had been on the bottom of the loch.

Unless the kelpie was fooling him. He took a few breaths and tried to judge where they could be. The loch was not more than twenty feet in diameter.

The priest dived down again, to the bottom of the lake and searched on. He had no big hopes of finding them. The kelpie had to find him. If he would drown in this lake, or even near it, it would come out. He could not be sure it would not prefer to stay with the prey it certainly had, so he did not want to try luring it out again. The priest pretended to have lost the idea of top and bottom, not knowing where the surface was so he could breathe. He struggled for a few seconds, then went still.

Time stretched to an agony. Some part of him was wondering how long a human could survive without oxygen. If he didn't pull her out now, she would, even if he could rescue her, be permanently damaged, more than any scars her mind would have to bear. And if not... he didn't want to think about that. The kelpie was clever. Maybe it understood the trap? But its greed would be stronger than reason. A death horse would never abandon a potential prey.

Something brushed over him, a fish tail. Only it was too big for that. His hand brushed over a flank, the flesh felt spongy and loose. He felt a face, or what was left of a horse's skull. Then he gripped a lifeless body on the flank of the horse. The girl was unconscious, her skin felt icy. But there was a weak pulse on her neck. It was not too late.

She was hanging on to the kelpie, fused with its flesh. The priest ignored his body's cry for air. His lungs were burning by now, but he could not fool the kelpie again. Either he won, or the girl died. And he with her, probably. The kelpie was steadily moving forward, or downward, away from the surface and its safety. The priest felt a sudden kink in the spongy flank of the monster and-

* * *

_Ferdinant Luke's orphanage, outside Rome, September 21st , 2016_

The story was interrupted by a phone ringing. The girls started. They had sat on the floor the whole time, like little children, listening to Anderson telling them this story. He had just wanted a test audience to judge if that story was appropriate for the children of the orphanage. And of course, he was slightly nervous. In such a big fight, he needed to be focused and the best for calming down was routine work in the orphanage. It hadn't helped that Maxwell had just not showed up last evening. But the boy had the right to be nervous like everyone else. His career and maybe even life was at stake in this. The Cornelius affair was an additional problem. It was pretty late for training, but if it helped him, who was Anderson to judge?

Everybody had gotten a good night's sleep. The girls had been so considerate to wait until the group was complete. Lisa had insisted on sitting on the floor like in a real story time (or whatever she thought that should look like). Even Enrico had eventually given in to her stubbornness. Then again, he would do basically anything for his sister. Though they seemed to have some more differences in the last weeks than usual.

Enrico dug out his phone and his face lit up. The boy had so far been listening just as intently on the story as everybody else, but now he jumped to his feet, ignoring the angry glances from the girls.

"Story time's over," he announced. "Millennium is coming to London."

"What, now?", Lisa gasped.

Enrico rolled his eyes. "Well, no, they are on their way. I suppose they will attack this evening after sunset. Until then, there's a lot of things to do. We can hear the rest when this is over."

Grumbling, the girls got up. Heinkel murmured something about "It's not that this half an hour makes a difference", but didn't complain aloud. Anderson sighed.

"Whit are we going tae do?"

"You will go to London as soon as possible, as our vanguard. The rest of Iscariot gets ready. Once you tell us the attack has started, we will interfere. I want Lady Hellsing captured. Alive. The crusaders will come in once Millennium has had their share. The less resistance, the better for us."

He looked at his phone again and Anderson wondered how he could know where Millennium was in the first place. The paladin had never really caught up to today's gadgets.

Anderson looked up to find Josephine standing in the door. She must have been listening on the whole story. She smiled at him. Her flaxen hair was streaked with gray by now, but she was still pretty. She smiled at her old teacher. A bit ironic that he was going to go into battle, being so much older than her. Technically he should be retired or already dead. But no, not for a regenerator. Kenzy had made it to the age of 114. The process had not worked out like it was supposed to from the beginning. Absently, he rubbed the scar on his cheek.

"Whit aboot the vampires?", Anderson asked.

"There's still this aircraft carrier under Millennium's control. Hellsing will send Vladimira there," Enrico said.

"Hou do ye want tae ken?" Anderson raised one eyebrow at his chief's scowl and stopped asking.

"We're starting for France at noon," Maxwell barked and strutted out of the room. Lisa threw a last glance back and followed him hastily. Anderson looked after them until they had turned around the corner, not able to help a feeling of dread. He didn't like the worry in Lisa's eyes.

Anderson went to get his equipment and was informed the heavy gear would be brought by the other Iscariots. He would take a regular flight to London. When he exited the orphanage grounds he thought to hear shouting. One voice sounded like Heinkel's. But he was already late for his flight and it was not unusual for the Chaos Girls to go at each other before a mission. It didn't affect their team work and after it they mostly went out to eat or something. And if it had to do with the orphanage kids, Josie was there to take care of it. She would make a great leader to this orphanage. Anderson wasn't sure how to feel about Marco coming on the crusade as well, but again, he had no time for discussions. He threw back a last glance to the orphanage that had been his home for so long. How many of those that had grown up here would come back after this night?

For some reason he wondered if Vladimira missed her old home. According to Enrico, she was on her way to this ship. For what reason somebody would sent his strongest weapon to a cell like that was beyond the paladin. The orphanage was peaceful in the late morning's light. Most kids were in school. Anderson thought of Scotland. Until Kenzy's funeral hadn't been there for years after his parents and next to every close relative was dead. Suddenly he wondered if he would ever get to see it again.

* * *

_Loch Tabse, Scotland, 1967_

Alexander felt a kink in the kelpie's flank and something sticking out of it. Josie's hand had vanished completely into the flesh-like substance, but it was still there, he knew it. The kelpie ate its victims like any beast would once it was in a safe place.

He would need to hurry. His head was beginning to swim and not even his special powers would help him out here for much longer. He didn't even want to think what might have already happened to Josie. He drew his bayonet, graceful for having them.

The kelpie swerved, seeming to have a premonition what he was about to do. Josie's wrist cracked audibly, or maybe he just imagined that because he felt something like a crack, and he cringed internally, but he had no other possibility to hang on. Josie only swayed in the current the kelpie's movements created. She was still unconscious. _Or dead._

The bayonet dug deep into the kelpie's flank. The beast roared, literally roared underwater, its eyes lighting up in the darkness of the muddy water. Alexander knew he could not really hurt the beast, he had no silver, nothing to use against a demonic spirit like this. The kelpie could not be killed, it didn't hurt. But it knew he was going to take away its prey.

Teeth dug into the fabric of his shirt. They were unnaturally sharp, especially for a horse. He managed to dig a blade into the kelpie's neck. Or somewhere anyway, he couldn't see. It shook its head, roaring, its glowing eyes the only bright spots in the darkness. Whatever he had hit, it gave Alexander enough time to cut a wide circle around the spot where he presumed Josie's hand to be. The blade scratched over bones, but the flesh-like substance came off easily, like a wet towel. He put one arm around Josie's waist and began to head for the surface.

Behind him, there was a roar, and something heavy hit him. If the beast managed to get him with its glue-like flesh, they were both doomed. Something ripped at his sleeve, and this time it tore through. Alexander drove a bayonet in that direction. There was light! The water's surface could not be that far away. Light and air. He was not sure what he wanted most right now.

Something slammed into him and pain flared in his cheek. He couldn't help a startled cry, which took away the last bit of breath he had. This was not supposed to happen. He had not gone through all of the pain and nightmares to become a regenerator and then get killed right on his front steps! Something icy and strong wrapped around his legs. Instead of struggling, he held still and could easily slip out. He was not sure if his blade hit anything, but then they broke the water's surface.

Alexander gasped, for seconds utterly unable to breathe, despite desperately needing to. He hastily paddled to the shore, hurling Josie out first and then carrying her away as far as he managed with the rest of strength he had. Just as far away from the loch as possible. The kelpie would not attack them again, out of its element and injured. And if it did, he was ready. Once he had his breath back, he would be fine, he told himself. Then why had the wounds not healed yet?

He laid Josephine on the grass, falling to his knees. The world was swimming around him, a blur of green and blue. He coughed, his throat hot and dry, despite all the water he spat on the shaggy grass. _You can't pass out now. Josie needs you._ He shook his head, feeling hot blood run down his neck, but finally getting his thoughts back together. He touched his face and his hand came back smeared with bloody water. The kelpie had almost bitten out a piece of his arm as well.

Josie lay on the grass like a broken doll. Her flaxen hair stuck flat and dreary to her head. She was incredibly pale and her skin was icy. The piece of flesh the kelpie had caught her with fell off and turned to muddy black water.

Josie was externally unharmed, but she wasn't breathing. Suddenly the paladin was somewhat glad they had bothered to learn this new CPR thing. But no matter what he did, Josie didn't stir. How long had she been underwater? A few minutes at the least. She had always been so weak with her immune deficiency, still she wanted to and would become a paladin. One of the best, even. He just knew it.

"Josephine!" _Please dear God, don't let her die._ There had been a lot of moments he had thought she might die on him, but never had he been directly at fault. "Josie!"

She coughed, her eyes springing open. She rolled on her side, curling into a ball while she vomited dirty water. Alexander had never thought he might feel weak of relief, but now he did. He held her soaked hair out of her face and waited for the worst to blow over.

"Teacher?", Josephine eventually managed.

"It's fine, dear. Ye're safe." He went to pick up his coat and wrapped her in it. The fourteen year old almost vanished completely in the masses of fabric.

"That was a kelpie," she whispered. "Like in the stories you told me when I was little."

"Aye." He began to walk back to the village, and quickly. Josie needed a hot bath as soon as possible. She would probably get sick anyway. And then they both could get a bit of rest.

"Sorry for not being careful enough."

"Nae yer fault."

Josephine was fighting to stay awake. Her body had eventually begun to shiver, and now she was shaken with cramps while her body tried to elevate its temperature. She could barely make a controlled movement. The ground was heaving and swerving while Alexander sped up even more. Josie managed to free one hand from the tight roll she was kept in and touched his temple, careful not to hurt him. There was a cuneiform wound running from the middle of the cheek right to the jaw, so deep she could almost see through the flesh. He would get a nasty scar from that.

"You're bleeding," she whispered. Her throat felt like sandpaper. She wished for a glass of water. Real, clean water, that didn't taste like mud, and a hot bath, and somebody staying with her so she would not wake up alone when she dreamed of the pale horse.

"Jus ae scratch, deary," he said. That was an outright lie. The dirty water had washed some of the blood right into his collar, giving it a reddish-brown color. But he would not discuss this with her right now, and she was very tired.

A pale horse, hung with algae and dripping black liquid, dragged itself out of the water behind them. It shook its head and transformed into the beautiful white stallion that had drawn her to the lake before. The piece of flesh missing in its flank regenerated.

Josie wanted to tell her teacher about it, wanted to warn him, but she couldn't.

The last thing Josie heard was a terrified gasp when they finally arrived at the house, and a female voice barking orders at someone. Then Josie fell asleep. She did not dream of the pale horse this time.

* * *

Josie had next to no memory of the past seven days. She was told she had pneumonia, and had been unconscious for most of the time. What she did remember was her body feeling incredibly hot, but at the same time cold, the pain when she coughed or tried to speak, and the nightmares. It was always the same, what the kelpie had shown her on its way down.

In these, Alexander did not rescue her. In these she was brought down by the kelpie, all the way to the bottom of the loch, to its lair, where it would feast upon her body. She would not feel it anymore, because she had already drowned, but she could see it. The dead did not need light. Her soul would not go to Heaven, nor to Purgatory or Hell, for that matter. Her spirit was trapped down there, with all the other victims, mostly children or young adults, damned to watch as the kelpie brought new victims, unable to help or warn anyone, only mourning the loss of their lives and of others.

And then Alexander was there as well. The kelpie had found him and lured him into the loch making him believe Josie was there, she was still alive. And it fed on him, but him being a regenerator, he did not die, but the flesh grew back and Josie had to watch him suffer for all eternity.

Then she woke up with a thin scream, because her sore throat did not permit anything else. She cried a lot in this week.

After ten days, Josie demanded to go home. Mrs. Anderson was so nice to her and Josie liked the family a lot, but she knew if she didn't get home, the nightmares would never stop. Aside of that, the orphanage needed its leader. The wound on Alexander's face had closed more or less, but like she had expected, he would not be spared from a deep scar running over his cheek. She had already apologized for being so careless, and despite everybody saying it was not her fault, she knew it was and felt guilty for it.

So finally, they agreed to get back to Rome. In thick clothes and two blankets, Josie sat shotgun in the car that would bring them to Edinburgh airport. Mrs. Anderson, Lorna, stroked Josephine's matt hair.

"Guid cheerio, deary. Get well and visit us again, aye?"

Josephine smiled and nodded. She felt better, and was finally able to speak again. "Thank you for everything."

"Ye're welcome." She kissed the girl on the head, closed the door and hugged her son again. "Ye tak care o' the lass, darling."

"O' course." Alexander got in the car, that seemed a bit too small for him, and started the engine. It was another bright, sunny day, but the wind was cold. The weather there would be a bit warmer in Italy he hoped. Josephine waved at the house and its inhabitants until they had reached the road.

"Ah'richt?", Alexander asked her.

"Yes." Josie stared out of the window, the rattling of the car almost making her fall asleep again. They drove through endless hills, with stone walls and paddocks. Josie shot up. No, she had not been wrong.

There, on the hill, stood a white horse. And it looked after them until they had disappeared.

* * *

I know the chapter is somewhat weird, and I'm sorry if it seems so off-topic. I stumbled across the kelpies randomly on the endless internet and my best friend, who this chapter is dedicated to, was like: You need to do that. Josie was more or less her character as well and actually part of a completely different AU. But well, here you go. The voice mourning Rip? That's her OC Mischa which I wrote a series for (in German, though). She wanted to invade my story, but that's how far she got.

I personally like the chapter a lot and it was fun to write. Tell you what, I wrote some parts of it in the evening when I was a bit too lazy to stand up and switch on the light and it _freaked me out_. You can google the kelpies, there are a lot of amazing artworks and it's a cool story.

I derived "Loch Tabse" from the Celtic word "taibhse", meaning Ghost. It's pronounced like "tavshe" or "tavshi".

Also a greeting to catsvsdogscatswin whom I did not have the pleasure to meet in the end (goddamned flu!), but at least had a very interesting conversation on the phone with. Thanks for the constant support and I really hope we can keep it up!


	20. London calling

There we are. After the last more flashbacky chapter now were going into action again. Have fun! :)

* * *

**Chapter 19: London calling**

_Ferdinant Luke's orphanage, near Rome, September 21st, 2016, 9:30 am_

Vicky was stuffing away her clothes into a bag when her teacher entered. The girl had a single room because she somehow didn't really get along with the other kids her age. The boys were stupid and the girls boring, she never got tired of stating. She looked up and smiled.

Heinkel pretended she was only slightly curious. "Don't you have to be in school?"

Vicky shrugged her shoulders. "Miss Jenkins sent me home, because I fell asleep."

"Jetlag?"

Another shrug. "Doesn't matter. I'm fine." She looked at her teacher for a moment and added hastily: "I'll go to the afternoon lessons. I like literature class, you know?"

Heinkel smiled. She'd love to take care Vicky really would do so, but she would have to ask somebody else to check on the girl. She hadn't been that eager to go to some lessons either.

"You did a good job in Minneapolis. I'll take you on another mission when I'm back."_ If I'm still alive_, she didn't say out loud.

Vicky beamed. "Awesome. Where are you going?"

For a moment she considered lying – just saying some mission again related to Millennium, but she would go with Yumie this time. But that would be stupid. Lying to friends and family never got you anywhere.

"The Ninth crusade." Vicky's jaw literally dropped.

"When do you go?"

"At noon. Iscariot will go into battle when Millennium starts their attack. Anderson is already on his way. We'll go to France and then to London, I suppose."

"What do you expect to find?"

Heinkel shrugged her shoulders. "An army of blood-thirsty vampires. And the British surely won't go down without a struggle either. Won't be a nice sight." Then realization hit her.

"You're aware you will not come with us, right?"

Vicky turned pink with anger. "But you said I did a good job!", she protested.

"And you did. But we're going to war. That's not for you!"

"I'm a paladin!", Vicky snapped.

"Not yet," Heinkel replied coldly. "The trainees stay here. We need somebody to guard the Vatican while so many of us are away."

Vicky snorted and made an angry step forward, then thought better than that and started pacing up and down. "If we're not good enough to go on this crusade, then how could we protect the Vatican from an attack?"

Heinkel had to admit that logic was flawless. In reality, there just was nobody else to do so. "That is not my plan and not my responsibility to decide. You will stay here."

Vicky shook her head and stopped. "I'm the best trainee in all of Iscariot! I heard you say that to Chief Maxwell." She let that statement hang for a moment. Heinkel cursed herself. She should have stuck to the concept of not giving out too much praise like she had all the time.

"Emphasis on the word trainee. It's too dangerous."

"How much more dangerous can it be than any mission?", Vicky hissed.

"We're facing an army of vampires. Some of us won't make it out alive, and I can't concentrate on fighting if I have to look out for you."

"You don't!", Vicky protested.

"And what about that vampire in Minneapolis? She almost got you. And I'm pretty sure she will be there too."

"Great," Vicky said with a smile that only showed how angry she was. "We still got something to work out. That bitch won't get away with what she did."

"Revenge is not the right way." Vicky raised an eyebrow at her teacher and Heinkel backed down. It might be true, but she was not qualified to claim this. Not her.

"You're not coming with us," she said. "And that's final. I'll set somebody to make sure you don't follow us."

Vicky gasped. "I don't need a babysitter! "Best paladin except the regenerator", my ass. You just don't want anyone to steal your show!"

Heinkel had tried hard not to lose her patience and shout at the girl, but the waiting and her stubbornness was getting on her nerves. Barely able to control herself, she growled: "This is not a contest. We're a team. We're a family."

"Oh really? Because I remember you have one in Germany. Pretty nice people. Would it upset them to know what you did when you were off all the time? Sure it would. They're just normal. Your parents don't know one hell of a lot about your work."

Heinkel clenched her teeth. So much for the idea of sending Vicky to Germany for a few days. "Keep them out of this. I'm just protecting them. This is a matter only concerning Iscariot. Civilians have nothing to do with it."

"Sure," Vicky said slowly. "I'm not a civilian. And I'm gonna be the best paladin ever. Better than you, for sure."

"Fine, I'll be happy to let you take my place when the time has come. But that's not now. You're not coming." She cut Vicky off. "That's my last word."

"You just admitted I'm good enough! What the hell is the problem?!"

And just like that, her patience had reached its limit. "I'm not taking a kid to war!", Heinkel snapped at her student. It was accompanied by a slapping sound.

Vicky stumbled back, surprise, something awfully similar to fear and anger fighting for the lead. She rubbed her cheek, which was already turning read. Heinkel stared at her, then at her tingling hand. Had she really just- ?  
"Vicky, listen, I'm sorry," she started, but Vicky shook her head. She had tears in her eyes.

"Fine. If you don't trust me." She wanted to walk casually past her teacher, but couldn't. Vicky ran out of the room and down the corridor. "I HATE YOU!", she shrieked, then the door slammed shut between them.

Heinkel didn't even consider running after her. She was too stunned to move, and way too horrified. Had she really just slapped Victoria? That had never happened before, and not without a reason. It was old-fashioned, and stupid, and... _I hate you._

What the hell had just happened? When she came in she had expected Vicky not to be happy about being left behind, but...

The door opened and the paladin flinched, but it was just Yumiko. She looked worried.

"Are you alright? Did you and Vicky have a fight?"

Heinkel absently shook her head. Vicky had grabbed the bag for some reason before she ran out. "I need to talk to Lara. Before Vicky does something stupid." It was not beyond the girl to run away. She had from the other orphanage she had been in before she came to Ferdinant Luke's. Funny that nobody had bothered to mention it to Heinkel before Vicky casually dropped it a few weeks ago.

"Where did she go?", Yumiko asked.

"On the roof, I guess. I'll go and talk to her when she's a bit calmer."

"She wasn't happy about being left behind." That was no question.

"Not really." Heinkel shrugged and brushed the hilts of her guns.

"Maybe... maybe you should take her. As a lesson." Yumiko lowered her eyes when she caught Heinkel's gaze.

"It's too dangerous. She's good, but I won't take a 16-year-old to war."

Yumiko nodded and accepted it. Her partner was right. This was going to be the most horrible thing since the Second World War. And they couldn't additionally watch out for an overzealous young girl in all of that. Besides, it was against the orders of their chief. He was already unhappy Lisa had insisted on accompanying him, they shouldn't push him.

"Will she be alright?"

Heinkel shrugged. "She'll get over it." Yumiko dropped the topic and they walked on in silence. She had a bad feeling about this. It was not the oncoming crusade. She was sure of their capabilities of course. Iscariot was the absolute elite. The knights might feel so superior, but they were no match to the legion of Judas. She just didn't like the way her friend was speaking. It sounded like she didn't believe it herself.

* * *

_Cap Gris-Nez, France, September 21st, 7pm_

"So... what about the crusaders?", Lisa asked. Something in her refused to take in the full range of this word. Crusade. Dear God, what had become of her family?

Enrico's eyes were fixed on his laptop, where a blinking spot told them where Millennium currently was. They had almost reached Britain by now.

"Do the Brits know they are coming?", Lisa asked. Finally Enrico seemed to listen to her.

"On a theoretical level. They don't know when exactly."

Lisa stared at the blinking dot that meant death to so many people. She didn't recognize her brother anymore. No matter how bad it had been in the past, this was new. He would try to leave her behind and she would have to stay with him until the end, if necessary.

"Family protects each other," she murmured. Enrico looked up, his green eyes looking just as innocent as she remembered.

"Huh? Did you you say something?"

"Uh... I... just wondered. The British are one of the biggest military powers. They have satellites and radar, right?"

Enrico entered something on the keyboard and closed the lid. "Not if the connection is broken."

"What about all the innocents?"

He raised one eyebrow. "They're heathens. There are no innocents." Lisa wanted to ask about all the Catholics, but then she realized they must have been informed. The Church took care of their children. Which made this even more sick.

"When will they arrive in London?", she asked as casually as she managed. She went over her possibilities once again, as if she hadn't done this a million times already. She needed to warn them. So far she had had no chance of slipping away without her brother leaving her behind – for her own protection, he was probably convinced.

"Probably around 10," he said absently, looking over the assembled forces of Iscariot. Some were in all major countries for helping out the Archbishops there if it should be needed, and the group didn't look all too big. But Lisa knew how powerful they actually were. In the background, Heinkel had stretched out on the grass, her headphones shutting out the rest of the world. Yumie was inspecting her sword, which was probably completely unnecessary. Every paladin had his or her own little methods of preparation. Not that there were one hell of a lot female paladins. Just the Chaos Girls. Lisa frowned. She thought she might have seen a familiar face on a much smaller figure, but couldn't be sure. Probably just her eyes playing tricks on her in her nervousness.

The bishop stood up and stretched. "Oh, man, ouch," he grumbled.

"Iscariot!", he called. Immediately, the paladins were on their feet, though Heinkel needed a not really gentle kick to start out of her music-induced daze. Lisa wondered what song she had been listening to, and then called herself an idiot to think about such things when lives were at stake.

"We were always cast out from the... 'official' work of our beloved God," Enrico said. "But tonight, Judas rises! We will conquer what is ours and finally get the recognition we deserve. The other sections have tried to interfere multiple times. They dismissed us, because our work is done in the shadows, but his Holiness puts his full trust in us. We will rid the world of the sickness that calls itself the Anglican Church, and of the remains of our predecessor's failure, resulting from their cowardice." He made a dramatic pause. "_Millennium._"

Nobody said a word. Everybody was just staring at the young bishop. He smiled at them. "This night, we will win. God is with you my friends. _In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus sancti._"

A choral of voices answered "Amen!". Most were smiling. And there was the boat, a private ferry of sorts, that would bring them over. Why they could not have taken a helicopter was a mystery to Lisa. Especially because the crusaders would have them. A lot of them.

They watched as the paladins boarded. Anderson was already in London, ready to lead the legion of Judas into battle once...

Once Millennium had done its part in Enrico's crusade plans.

"You're not coming with us?", asked Yumie. The Chaos Girls had taken a little detour to talk to their leader again. It took Lisa a few seconds until she realized they were talking to her. Enrico had gone off to somewhere. For a split second, she was panicking, thinking she lost him. But there he was, on his way to the house of the old retired bishop who more or less owned this whole area.

"Nah. I'll stay with Enrico," she said.

The Chaos Girls looked at each other. "Fine then," Heinkel said. "Come on, Yumie." She ran over to the boat. Lisa could have screamed. Why did nobody see? So many things were wrong here.

"You take care of him, right?", Yumie said. Lisa looked up, sure to have heard Yumiko's voice, but the paladin was already leaping over the edge of the boat, not bothering with a door. They waved at her and she waved back, though after a moment's hesitation.

Then she turned around and followed her brother.

* * *

_Carry on my wayward son_  
_There'll be peace when you are done_  
_Lay your weary head to rest_  
_Don't you cry no more_

Heinkel jumped when she felt a boot in her side. Annoyed – she had almost finished the song! - she put away her headphones. They would stay behind, together with her phone. Both had been way too expensive to be brought into the middle of Hell's own legions. She got to her feet, brushing grass off her trousers, her hands automatically checking her weaponry.

Enrico stood in front of the Iscariots and held a little pep talk. He was good at that, no doubt about it. Once this crusade was over, Iscariot would be next to immune to the other section's subtle attacks. Heinkel blinked. She thought she might have seen a pale face framed by dark hair, but the taller men blocked her view.

She had wanted to check on Vicky before leaving, but the girl had not been at lunch, and not on the roof. That only left the possibility of the girl running to their training place in the woods. The weather was clear and relatively warm, so she would hopefully not catch a cold. Heinkel would have wanted to go look for her and talk this out, but they had to leave before she could do that. So she had asked one of the nuns in the orphanage to check on Vicky once she had vented, and deliver a message from her teacher. She was sorry for how this had turned out. She just wanted to protect her student. Although Heinkel had (of course) not written it, but her first thought had been daughter instead of student.

She was just getting paranoid. How would Vicky have managed to slip between the paladins unnoticed? She was just a teenager and would stand out like a sore thumb. The others would have sooner or later recognized her and told Heinkel about it. Besides, maybe somebody else had long hair? That was not exactly forbidden, also for men. Look at their own leader.

Enrico had obviously finished his speech. Heinkel called "Amen" with everybody else, just out of habit. Yumie nudged her and rolled her eyes.

"Where are you with your thoughts?", she asked. "Stop daydreaming. I need you to cover my ass."

"What, now?", Heinkel shot back. "Sure thing, the grass is very tall around here." That was not exactly up to her usual standards, but her mind was on something else. She stayed where she was while the paladins went over to the boat. Why a boat, anyway? They would have to drive to London after they had arrived. She would rather prefer to fly. That was more fitting to Iscariot's level of awesomeness and a lot more practical.

She studied all the paladins that poured onto the ship. The group was astoundingly small. But it would be enough to take on the British forces and Millennium. No black ponytail like Vicky preferred it. She knew all the paladins by name, except for one or two of the newbies. They had been on duty for less than a few weeks, and she normally didn't get paired up with them. Aside of that, she had her own trainee.

Yumie pulled her over to Lisa before they went to the ship. She was standing there alone. Enrico was on his way to the old archbishop's villa.

"You're not coming with us?", Yumie asked. Lisa looked at her blankly for several seconds until she realized Yumie was talking to her. She looked around for her brother and seemed worried, until she had spotted him already quite a bit away.

"Nah, I'll stay with Enrico," she said. That came as no surprise to anyone. Enrico and Lisa were the subject of a lot of jokes and gossip everywhere. At least inside Iscariot, none of it was of the malignant sort. In the other sections it might look quite different.

"Fine then," Heinkel said. "Come on, Yumie." She headed for the boat, scanning over the now more or less orderly and still heads. _You're getting paranoid. Focus, we've got a crusade to lead._

She jumped over the wall of the boat and settled between a newbie called Giorgio and an old hand named Laurence. Yumie joined them soon after and sat on the opposite bench. She grinned at Heinkel, her katana lying over her legs.

Heinkel would have loved to have a bit of music to keep her busy during the transfer, but what she was left with was wondering what Vicky might be doing right now. She really had not wanted to slap the girl. That was not like her. Hopefully Vicky did not get in any adventures while her teacher was gone. The nuns were all very nice and considerate, but no match to the future paladin. She would just climb on the roof and make a dash for the woods if she wanted to be alone.

Somebody went through the rows and counted. Heinkel looked up and was surprised to see Renaldo. "Marco, what are you doing here?", Yumie asked before her partner could.

"Counting if everybody is there," he said with a smile. "Alexander asked me to accompany you after all. My last battle will be a big one, it seems." The girls exchanged a skeptical glance. Last...?

Marco laughed. "I'm getting too old for active duty. And the orphanage is not as boring as you might think."

Heinkel smiled and made a mental note. It would be all too tragic, and sadly all too typical, for an Iscariot's last mission to be his last deed in the world as well. Renaldo had been her teacher just like Anderson and what student would she be if she could not help him?

"Uhm, Marco, you don't happen to know what happened with Vicky after we left?"

"Lara told me she was on a walk," Renaldo said. Heinkel nodded.

"Thanks." _See? No need to chicken out. She's fine._

She looked in the direction they were headed to. It was not dark yet and she could already see the coast of England. The Channel's water was very still today. There was the occasional chatter, but most were lost in thoughts, preparing for the battle. At the end of the boat was a smaller paladin with messy black hair, hunched over and the cross in his hands. He seemed to be praying. Heinkel couldn't make out who it was. Probably Chico. He always got a bit freaked out before a mission, but he was a very capable guy. His caution had saved quite a few lives, as far as gossip was concerned.

"Father Anderson will wait for us at Tower Bridge," Renaldo announced. "He will lead our attack. Orders are to capture Caitlyn Hellsing alive." What was that about Caitlyn Hellsing? There were some distinct rumors about her and the chief, but Heinkel had never really paid attention to it. Enrico was a bishop and one of the strictest believers she knew. Even if-

"His excellency, Archbishop Maxwell, and the rest of the crusaders will join us later."

Heinkel listened up. A murmur went through the rows. Archbishop?

Renaldo smiled. "Yes, his Holiness has decided to bestow this honor upon our director, which is more fitting for the leader of a crusade." No, Heinkel had not been wrong. Renaldo looked worried. Just like Anderson had the last weeks, and Lisa in particular. At least she was not alone in her judgment Enrico was unstable.

They had passed the cliffs of Dover. On the shore, there were cars waiting. Heinkel followed the others. She had no time for contemplating. The battle was about to begin. They would conquer Britain or die trying.

* * *

Lisa found Enrico stretched out on a recliner in the garden, reading a newspaper. He looked up and smiled briefly. Lisa saw the newspaper was from the day before yesterday.

"Didn't find anything better to read?", she asked and sat down on another recliner. They were pretty damn comfortable, she had to say. With the pension of a powerful archbishop you could do quite a lot, it seemed. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Damn, if they would be up the whole night she would need at least a bit of sleep now. But she couldn't fall asleep yet. First she had to call Caitlyn and warn her. Maybe the could evacuate parts of London until Millennium arrived. It was better than nothing.

"Everything else was in French," Enrico answered. "And I'm too tired to try what's left of my linguistic skills now."

"So... how will it go? We'll wait for... what?"

"Anderson and the paladins will capture Lady Hellsing. She'll be the foundation of the new Catholic Britain. You know, people work better with someone they already know. Sort of."

"You sure it's not because you like her?"

Enrico sighed and put down the news paper. "You know what? I'm tired of arguing. You're right, I like her. So what?"

Lisa blinked at him, surprised that he had actually given in. "Nothing. You just didn't want to admit it before."

He sighed again, this time with a smile. "Anyway, if you don't mind, I'll read a bit more. The news is very... interesting." He gestured to the newspaper, then turned his attention to whatever he was reading right now. Lisa wondered if he could actually read that. He refused to wear his glasses most of the time anyway. She needed to call Caitlyn, yesterday. The sun was setting slowly on the horizon. She instinctively got into a more comfortable position. They had about three hours until Millennium reached London. Enrico was reading and she didn't want to make him suspicious. It was bad enough she betrayed him like that.

_He's not himself anymore_, she told herself. _Family protects each other. By all means necessary._

* * *

_City of London, September 22nd, 2016, 2 am_

"The battle line was broken!" There were screams and panicked shooting. London was hell, just like she had seen it in her dream in Scotland. The legion of the vampire's undead was feasting on the crusaders, destroying the vampires and everything that stood in their way. Lisa was standing on a derelict building, just like in her dream, but it was not the same. She could see her brother in his protective glass case, dangling over the battle. She was connected to the radio he used and could hear everything he did. "Bishop, please, order to retreat!", the man on the radio begged. "Your Grace-"

Enrico cut him off. "Don't toy with me!", he snapped. His voice was shrill with panic. "I'm no bishop! I am an _archbishop_!" Then the helicopter his truck was hanging from exploded in a fireball. Suddenly without support, the vehicle tumbled down and hit the ground. Lisa only got out a terrified gasp. She wasn't sure when she had started to run or how long she took, but soon she was in front of the building. The undead familiars were surrounding him, blocking her way. She groped for her knives, but the monsters didn't even notice her. They were only interested in the human in front of them.

Enrico groaned and got up. Blood was running over his face from a gash in his hairline. There was an army of undead, familiars, spirits, that had only one goal: To make him one of them. He gasped and stumbled back, landing on his bottom, but the glass cage was protecting him. The fall had not broken it. His fear turned into triumph and he started laughing. It sounded gruesome. Lisa shivered and wondered where it all had gone wrong.

"The glass is reinforced with hardened tektite composite!", he exclaimed. "You cursed dead will not even scratch it!"

A bayonet pierced the glass, the tip stopping barely an inch from his face. Enrico stared at it for a second, before he scrambled back with a startled yelp. "Anderson?!"

Yes. Anderson. He was standing on a pile of rubble, behind the army of monsters, and looked down on the fallen bishop. _Archbishop_, Lisa corrected herself. Thank God, Anderson was there to save the day once again. But the paladin didn't make a move when the familiars closed in on Enrico, grabbing, tearing.

"Anderson!", he yelled. "Help me!"

Anderson slowly shook his head, not angry, just sad and regretful. "We are Section XIII, Iscariot, earthly agents o' divine punishment. Wi' yer arrogance ye have left the path o' God. Ye were nae fighting fae him, only fae yerself. Without ae single discrepancy, we will smash yer dream."

Enrico tried to free himself, but a wave of familiars engulfed him.

"Farewell, ma friend," Anderson said.

"Anderson! Save me! Alexander!" Stakes pierced his body, his chest, his leg. Enrico choked, his clothes getting soaked with his blood. There was a shrill noise in the background, like a rusty door being moved.

_Is this it?_, Enrico asked himself. _Am I to die... here? NO! He wanted to say something, but didn't. I was born alone. I don't want to die alone!_

"Jesus," he whispered. He tried to raise his hand to the sky.

"Lisa!" She looked around, tears blurring her sight. That was her brother's voice. Could she hear his thoughts, like before?

"LISA!"

* * *

_Cape Gris-Nez, September 21st, 10pm_

"LISA!" She couldn't breathe. Somebody shook her, she couldn't see who. "LISA!" She gasped. The rusty-door-sound broke off. Her face was wet and her throat hot and dry. She was shaking so badly she couldn't even wipe her face without almost punching herself. She wiped off the tears that had turned everything into a mess of colors.

Enrico was squatting next to the recliner she was lying on, very pale under his tan. "Thank God! What happened?", he asked. Lisa threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against it.

"Another nightmare?" She nodded. "What did you see?" Not: What was it about? Not: What did you dream? He treated it like it was something real and that made it even worse. Because she knew it was, if she didn't do anything.

"You died," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. She must have been screaming for at least a minute until he managed to wake her. Enrico sighed and pulled them both on the edge of the recliner, so they didn't sit on the stones. He stroked her sweaty hair.

"Hey," he said softly. "I'm not planning to die, you know?"

She nudged him angrily. "That's not the point! You died in this battle. You-" Her voice broke. She couldn't describe it to him. Not all the details, his last thoughts, Anderson's treachery. She had trusted Anderson. Enrico trusted him, without a single doubt his whole life. But now Lisa would never be able look at him without having to think of this, no matter if she was right or not.

She could hear helicopters approaching. The crusaders were arriving. A truck with a glass cube was hanging on one of them. She cuddled into the embrace even more. Suddenly she was very cold, despite her black coat.

"Promise not to leave me behind," she whispered.

Enrico hesitated. "Lisa, it's too dangerous."

She stood up, freeing herself rather harshly. "I gotta clean myself up a bit. How can I attend a promotion ceremony like that?" His gaze told her he didn't have the slightest clue what the hell she was talking about. On her way to the house she almost bumped into four men. They were clothed like Iscariots, but Lisa knew they were not. One of them was the leader of Section IV, Andrew, the technology department. What was his name again? Bern-something? Bernard? So the others had to be from the other sections as well. How strange that she didn't even know what they looked like. Enrico had dropped the names from time to time, but she had no faces to match because she had never met them personally. She dodged them and made sure they hadn't seen her. She didn't need to give them even more gossip material.

The house was open and quiet. The old archbishop, Matthieu, seemed to have retreated to his bedroom. Wait, what?

Lisa checked the clock. 10 pm. _Dear God, no!_ How could she have slept so long? How could she have slept at all?

She dug out her phone and made sure nobody was around. The living room, the kitchen, everything was dim and empty. She chose Caitlyn's number in her address book, only called CM, for Caitlyn Morris. "Forgive me brother," she whispered, before she tapped on dial.

Connecting took a few seconds in which Lisa could only hear her hammering heart. Then the call was taken. Caitlyn sounded tired. "Hello? Who are you?"

"Lady Hellsing, it's Lisa Hamilton. Maxwell. Whatever. Listen, Millennium is on its way to London. And... and the Vatican will attack too. I don't think you have much more time. Get the people out of there. Please. And don't tell anyone I called you." She felt like the traitor she was saying this.

There was a whisper at the other end, almost too quiet to be heard. "Thank you."

Lisa rang off and fell on the sofa, her shaking legs refusing to carry her. The cushions felt icy and were almost painful on her skin. She put the phone back into her pocket and wiped her face. She had done the right thing. Now she had to save her brother. In her dream, he had been alone. So all she had to do was to make sure that in reality he would not be. In theory, everything sounded so simple.

Lisa got up. She was a paladin, a servant of God, and a sister. There would be enough time to cry later. She had a job to do.

* * *

Enrico looked after Lisa until she vanished in the direction of the houses. They really had to do something about that. It hadn't been that bad since Lisa was adopted. The one or other nightmare was normal – he had them too. But first Scotland and now this. He almost got a heart attack and then fell off the recliner when Lisa woke him with her screaming.

_You died in this battle._ It had just been a dream. Lisa was worried about him and that was only natural. This crusade would be dangerous, not just because of Millennium's army. Vladimira was still on that ship, but she would not stay there forever. Until then, Anderson had to be ready to take her on. It was now or never, for all of them.

He brushed his hair and fixed his ponytail. It was quite a bit too early and he would have liked to have a bit more sleep, but after this, sleeping was out of the question. The knights were arriving and waited for him, but the battle hadn't even started yet. He yawned.

"Your Excellency." He jumped to his feet, more in a reflex. What the hell were they doing here?

Aidan Finch, leader of Section III, Matthew, the holy relic administration bureau.

Cesare Bernard, leader of Section IV.

Boris Dragovic, dubbed "the dragon", leader of Section V, Philip, responsible for all vehicles.

They were all clothed like Iscariots. Enrico managed not to display an emotion.

"Good evening," he said calmly. "What a... surprise to see you."

A younger man pushed to the front. He had been concealed by the dragon, who didn't get his name for no reason. He was almost as tall as Anderson and the young man, almost a boy, looked like a... _little rat_. Enrico didn't react, although he would have loved to punch the boy the moment he saw him.

"We needed to see your quite remarkable success and congratulate you," the boy said.

Enrico forced himself to a smile. "Hayate Makube. What are you doing here?" Cornelius' minion and basically personal servant. The little brat had never made a secret he wanted to succeed Enrico once Cornelius had pushed him off his so-called throne, and the old bastard had given his full support.

"Section VIII wants to express their full support and wish you the best of luck in this, for all our sake." He smiled his disgusting sly grin. Then he put on a regretful expression. "After the recent, most unfortunate demise of our leader, the honorable Bishop Cornelius, I as his appointed successor felt it appropriate to come by anyway. We are all on the same side after all."

"Of course," Enrico said and managed a quite convincing smile. "Thank you. It is... reassuring to know you have my back in this huge task." _Funny. 'Thou shalt not bear any false witness against thy neighbor'. So far, Caitlyn has proven more true to this commandment than any of us._

"We are also here to ask you a few questions. As friends," Finch added. He was a bureaucrat, a historian, tall and bespectacled, who was not interested in politics. He would prove to be the biggest help, if Enrico took care what he said. And he had to, if he wanted to survive this politically. The dragon and Bernard were not such a big threat either. But Makube wanted him down by all means.

"Go ahead. I think we have enough time." The helicopters stood still, no sign of any crusaders. They had still one hell of a lot of time. First, Millennium would do their part, and Iscariot would capture Caitlyn.

"You gave the order to capture Lady Hellsing alive," Bernard said.

"Indeed. Do you disagree?"

"Not at all," Makube said immediately and cut off the dragon, who did not look pleased. An idea formed in the back of Enrico's mind. John was not exactly popular in any of the other sections, and Makube was an upstart, thanks to Cornelius, who liked his butt kissed by everyone.

"We were just wondering what you have in mind for her. She is the leader of our worst enemy, Hellsing."

"She's barely more than a child," Enrico said, pretending to be amused. He didn't like where this was going. "Once Anderson has disposed of the vampires, Hellsing is no threat anymore."

"Of course, of course," Makube agreed, this time interrupting Finch, who wanted to say something. He frowned. The man was normally good-humored and patient, but Makube had something to his person that caused instant dislike.

"But nevertheless, she could become a threat. Somebody able to control two powerful vampires is a force to be reckoned with, right? Of course," he added with a smile. "I have to rely on the judgment of Section XIII in this. We at John are not the experts."

"The vampires obey Caitlyn Hellsing because of a spell cast one hundred and thirty years ago. Not more. There is nothing all too remarkable about her."

"Then why leave her alive? As leverage?"

"We won't need leverage," Enrico said, but Makube interrupted him.

"This is an inquisition, and she is a leader of the heathens," the boy said to the other three. "We should burn her at the stake."

Finch raised an eyebrow, but the dragon nodded slowly. "The heathens should be shown immediately what happens to those who oppose our God," he said in his heavy Slavic accent, but perfect English. Enrico stared at them as the dragon and Makube discussed how this event should be staged, the process, and the actual death sentence, if she should get relief by being shot if she was cooperative. They were quite colorful in their descriptions and Enrico could not help the one or other image to emerge from the depth of his mind, forged by history lessons and movies. They made him shiver. Caitlyn at the stake?

"No."

The four men turned around and looked at him, displaying a variety of reactions from mild confusion to malignant satisfaction and anger.

"'No'?", Makube said pointedly confused. "You as an Iscariot should be pleased by that thought. Or..." His eyes lit up. This brat was one hell of a good actor, that much was certain. "Oh Father Maxwell, I never thought it was true."

Enrico felt his pulse throb. Careful now. He had walked right into a trap he could not have avoided, unless he wanted to see Caitlyn burn at the stake. And that thought scared him more than he wanted to admit. "Excuse me? I'm not sure if I understand what you mean."

Makube smiled even wider. "Rumor has it you two... Your Excellency and Lady Hellsing worked quite well together, both at the meeting in the Imperial War Museum and the conference just yesterday. Also, you seem to be somewhat similar. It is not difficult to assume there is a mutual affection in the range of possibilities."

Enrico blinked at him. Then he started laughing. The other bishops stared at him in utter confusion. It took Enrico a moment to get himself under control. "Excuse the outbreak. So that was what nobody wanted to tell me about," he said eventually. The laugh had only started off as a fake. It was actually pretty funny, and logical, to assume Makube would continue whatever plan Cornelius had prepared. "I suppose it should have crossed my mind. I just never assumed my reputation was so low that somebody might believe in such a ridiculous thing." _Iscariot is supposed to hunt down monsters and heretics. How much of my job actually consists of acting and politics instead?_

Enrico went ahead before Makube could prepare another attack, one he couldn't dodge that easily. "But it is good to see my plan worked. You have to know, I intended Lady Hellsing to like me. She thinks I'm her ally. The only one, even. I assumed that was clear to you, seeing that John and Iscariot worked so closely together the last weeks."

"Of course. I never believed that one instant," Makube said. The other three frowned and Enrico was almost stunned how brave or foolish the boy was to tell such a blatant lie. But nobody called him out.

"See, religion has no direct influence on Caitlyn Hellsing's behavior. She recognizes the Vatican as a hostile force, but only on a political level. She does not grasp the concept of being arch enemies because of their heresy." The dragon frowned. Bernard and Finch raised their eyebrows. Makube glared at him. Enrico shrugged his shoulders. "I was just as surprised as you are now. But that is only to our-" Makube interrupted him again.

"What about that incident at the Imperial War Museum?"

Enrico felt his eye twitch. The little prick was getting on his nerves, but he needed to stay calm. "As I already explained to his Holiness and the late Bishop Cornelius, that was an unfortunate misunderstanding." Alright, that sounded a bit more aggressive than it should. "She bears me no ill will."

"Why Lady Hellsing? A puppet ruler will do just fine," Makube criticized. Finch, who had said nothing at all yet, exchanged a glance with the dragon and Bernard. They seemed to decide to keep out of the conversation for now. Finch nodded at Enrico, which Makube didn't see.

_Go ahead. Explain your plan, convince us._

"The British public will need a new leader they don't perceive as foreign," Enrico explained. "as I was about to say, Lady Hellsing might be the only person in the British nobility ready to support us."

"Or stab our back," Makube replied.

"She is not that type of person." Damn. What kind of statement was that? Makube had tricked him and he had fallen for it.

The brat raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And what type of person, in your opinion, is she, if I may ask?"

"Desperate and gullible," Enrico said in a tone of voice similar to a dismissive gesture. "She has no real supporters in her country once the queen is gone. Whereas we, meaning her and me, worked quite well together."

"Indeed," Makube said slowly. "Excuse me if I seem rude, but are you sure you are not underestimating her? Her actions concerning the Eagle situation seemed quite well-organized and thought through."

"She had professionals at her side. Also, sending her strongest weapon into a prison does not strike me as "thought through". But maybe you have a different understanding of that phrase."

Makube opened his mouth to retort something, but the dragon laid a hand on his shoulder. Makube froze. The hand looked big enough to squish him to bits in less than a second.

"We appreciate your enthusiasm," Bernard said too warmly to be honest. Makube glared at nobody in particular, but didn't dare to protest. "Your Excellency, Archbishop Maxwell, you have to know Section VIII was tasked with checking if you were the right person to lead this crusade. It is nothing personal, I assure you."

"Of course not," Enrico waved it off. "I appreciate your thoroughness. ...Did you call me Archbishop?" He must have misheard while figuring out if the others really meant it well or if they just waited for his fall like most. That couldn't be. He would turn 28 in two weeks. He already had been the youngest bishop in centuries.

The others exchanged a glance. "Seems like I just spoilered you," Finch said. "Sorry."

Enrico managed a laugh that sounded relaxed and good-humored like it was fitting for an archbishop, but inside him joy and incredulity were roaring. "No problem at all. I'll pretend it didn't happen." That evoked smiles. Makube stared at him in envy he just couldn't conceal. He was just a simple priest. Yet, according to himself. Would Cornelius really make him his successor? That would contradict his behavior of the last three years. Makube was 25, not even one year older than Enrico had been. Then again, Cornelius needed loyal men, and had of course not planned on dying. Him as the chief of Section VIII might be a problem. But for now there were more important things to attend to. Where was Lisa, anyway? How long could it take her to get herself together? He knew he was being silly, it had just been a dream like in Scotland, but he wanted to know more about it. About his death.

"Your Excellency, I hope you don't mind the question," Makube said. The way he talked, calling Enrico Excellency had to hurt him almost physically. Just what he deserved. "Paladin Lisa Hamilton stayed here, right?"

"Yes indeed. Why?" He sighed and looked at Bernard, Finch and the dragon. "It is about these ridiculous rumors again, isn't it? Maybe you're right." Makube's jaw dropped. "It wouldn't be the first time I get to hear I'm overly protective of her. It's just a reflex, if you will. No matter what, I'll always be her older brother."

Something slightly scary happened: The dragon smiled. As far as Enrico knew that happened about once in a decade and then everybody ran because there surely would be a reason to do so. They just didn't want to find out which. "You are absolutely right," he said in his heavy Slavic accent. Enrico had already been cursing herself for showing himself to be so vulnerable. Makube, who had surely wanted to use it against him just this instant, broke off before saying anything.

"Family is important," the dragon stated and that meant Makube would keep his mouth shut. "You should take care of it."

Enrico turned this statement over for a moment. Dragovic had no political ambitions as far as he knew. No matter form what angle he looked at it, it was just a well-meant warning.

"Excuse me," Makube said, and stomped off. Enrico didn't like where this conversation had ended. He should check on Lisa, and soon.

"Maxwell," Dragovic said warmly. Enrico winced. The dragon's dark eyes in the roughly shaped face were full of... pain and worry? He was reading too much into this, Enrico decided. He was not like Caitlyn, who obviously could read people like an open book if she wanted to.

"In the end, family is all you have." Ha laid a hand on Enrico's shoulder, just for a moment. It was just as heavy and slightly scary as it had looked on Makube. But the dragon only meant it well, Enrico was sure for some reason. Maybe there was a reason the dragon, a strong and intelligent man, had never tried to get any further in the hierarchy. He was so unremarkable in the gears of politics that Enrico had never really checked on him.

He cleared his throat. "I didn't even thank you for your unlimited support yet. I'm sure there were... some discussions why Section XIII would get the honor to lead our reconquista. Without Section V this would not be possible."

"Not necessary," the dragon said curtly. He looked past Enrico just as Finch called: "Your Excellency!"

Bernard and Finch had walked about half the way to the top of the cliffs overlooking the British Channel. In the distance, bright lights were illuminating the horizon. The surveillance group had just sent a report to Enrico's invaluable phone where pretty much everything ended up eventually, but he didn't need to check. These lights could only mean one thing. They were beautiful.

Where was Lisa? She should see this. For that matter, where was Caitlyn? Still in the middle of the city, taking care of the HMS Eagle? Would she be alright until Anderson and the others found her?

Enrico slowly walked up to the edge of the cliff. The water seemed so still from the distance, but here, it was tearing at the rock under his feet. He could feel it roaring, a divine force of nature. Just like they would be.

He smiled. "The battle of London has begun."

* * *

For the part of Makube, I have to thank catsvsdogscatswin, because she gave me the idea of making him the guy he is now in the first place. There is this theory that Chief Makube from the epilogue is the young priest from Volume 6, but we both agreed that Enrico's successor is waaaaay too creepy to have been such a cute kid. So there you go: Slimy, creepy young Makube.

Heinkel is listening to "Carry on wayward son" by Kansas if you couldn't tell. I'm a Supernatural fan and I think that song fit her really well.


	21. Symphony of Destruction

Sorry I took longer than usual :/ I'm on hiatus once again, but only for a few days (and you can expect a really awesome short story then :3). So here we are, the Battle of London has begun (as Enrico already said). We'll see what comes out of it and if some get back their senses in time...

Thanks to catsvsdogscatswin for the review :3

* * *

**Chapter 20: Symphony of Destruction**

_British National Security Special Guidance Division HQ, 10.30 pm_

Caitlyn felt her body go limp. The phone almost fell from her hand. _God, oh God, no._

_He who hath no stomach in this fight, let him depart._ She didn't want anything more. Just walk away. She had not chosen this. Why should she be responsible for all those lives? What had she been thinking, telling the Major "The game was up"? Was she crazy? Let the professionals deal with this. They knew what to do. Let Walsh and Irons take the reigns, if necessary. They knew how to win a war. They had done it before. Caitlyn had never been that scared in her life. All she wanted to was to be normal.

Penwood was staring at her like a rabbit at a fox. Caitlyn barely managed to speak loud enough to be heard. "They're coming."

The doors were ripped out of their hinges by an explosion. Everybody winced and spun.

"And here we are," a gleeful voice announced. Spoiler, McDaniels and Smith were accompanied by a group of heavily armed soldiers. They aimed the automatic rifles at the men in the room, alone three of them at Caitlyn._ I was so wrapped up with trying to make a good impression that I forgot we have traitors in our ranks as well._ Walter should have seen it.

Outside, an explosion shook the building. Plaster rained down. Caitlyn stared at the white particles on her black jeans, how tiny and unimportant they were, but in dozens they made a huge mess. She thought she would have broken into tears already, but right now, she couldn't cry.

"Wh-What is going on?", Penwood demanded to know. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Oh shut it, human. These head quarters are under control of Millennium now!" Penwood went even paler.

"How can they be here? We didn't-"

"No news came through," McDaniels said. He shrugged his shoulders. "Tell you a secret, the systems broke down hours ago. A virus or something. We almost missed the party ourselves." He laughed. "Doesn't matter. You won't tell anyone, right?" These men, who should protect their fellow citizens, damn, their fellow humans, had sacrificed them for their own sake.

"Et tu, Brute?", Caitlyn whispered, without noticing it herself. She was shaking and tried her best to control it. This was not fair! She was no Hellsing, never had been. She almost wished she had stayed in the orphanage, finished on a regular school, would be doing a regular, boring job, complain about normal problems, and have a regular, meaningless life. No vampire armies, no hostile royals, or psychopathic priests, no family, no responsibility.

"Julius Cesar, right?", he asked. She looked up to find McDaniels pointing a gun at her. The muzzle was still warm. It had been fired not long ago. McDaniels grinned, fangs flashing. For some reason that didn't look as impressive or even beautiful as it was with Mira and Walter.

"We heard you're such a Shakespeare fan," he said, pressing the gun hard enough in her skin to hurt. "Then how about this: '_Some rise by vice, and some by virtue fall_'?"

"Sin," Caitlyn said.

"Huh?"

"It's "Some rise by sin". You said vice. It's from Measure for measure, Act 2, Scene 1. Escalus says it." Snickering among the men. McDaniels frowned. He could have shot her right there on the spot, but he was too egocentric for that. He wanted to enjoy holding her captive.

"Whatever. I can consider myself lucky, Lady Hellsing. To be the one to snatch you. The Führer will be so pleased."

_You had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground._ The thought didn't make her smile as usual. She would find that bastard and rip him to pieces with her bare hands if necessary, for everything he had done. She couldn't know what was going on outside, but she did.

Hell had opened its gates.

"He will kill you. Somebody who betrays his first lord with betray the second."

The muzzle felt like it was burning into her temple. Caitlyn clenched her fists and tried to ignore it.

Laughter. "Nice try. Who said we will return to him? Tell you something, in case you didn't notice. _Vampirism is magnificent_."

"I agree." They spun, but there was no one there. The muzzle on Caitlyn's temple vanished. The spot was rough and sensitive to the touch. "Pardon my late appearance, milady."

"Who are you? Show yourself!", Spoiler barked. The men pointed their guns in all directions, but their opponent remained unseen. "If you dare, kid!" To Caitlyn's surprise the answer to this was not anger, but a giggle. They would be dead soon anyway. Walter did not see them as a threat.

Caitlyn nodded reassuringly at Sir Penwood, who was frozen in his seat, livid and terrified. No, he was not a traitor. Caitlyn looked down at her hands still holding the phone. The warning had been high treason. Sure, Lisa was the chief's sister, and Enrico would do anything to protect her, but that didn't save her eternally. Hopefully she didn't get into trouble because of this. If only she had called earlier.

She didn't want to do this. It had already been too much. Too much blood, and death, and madness. She had been able to ignore this side of her vampires for most of the time. But what choice was there? None, of course. There never was. Freedom was life's biggest lie.

"Hellsing is more than a century old," she said. "We were founded by Abigail van Hellsing, the greatest vampire huntress in history. Do you think Millennium were the first to think of using vampires?"

Silence, then laughter. "That little show your butler staged?", Spoiler jeered. "Please. For a human that might be impressive. We have an _army_." Caitlyn had the irrational urge to answer "We have a Hulk". She didn't, of course, though in metaphorical terms it would not have been that wrong.

"Sure. You know, I don't like the term 'use' when it comes to sentient beings. Vampires are persons. They're my friends. My family." She stared at her hands, then forced herself to look up. That was her duty. She could not just avert her eyes and pretend it didn't happen. "Walter, would you, please?"

"My pleasure." It happened very fast. Just a blue glimmer, the sound of metal wires being stretched, a swishing of air, and the traitors fell into pieces, their blood splattering all over the room. A big splash hit Sir Penwood right in the face. He froze, then almost fell of his chair when Walter appeared beside him, holding out a handkerchief. Penwood's hands shook when he took it.

"T-thank you."

Walter indicated a bow and vanished, to appear next to Caitlyn a moment later. "A thousand pardons for the mess." He hadn't even bothered to change his form. Maybe he didn't care anymore. Caitlyn liked him best like that anyway. "Thank you. Just in time."

Penwood wiped the blood off his face. "Go ahead," he said miserably. "Accuse me of being a traitor. It's too late now anyway."

Nervous murmuring in the room. "I never thought you were a traitor," Caitlyn said warmly.

The surprise and then joy on his face made him look several years younger. "B-But... Everybody did."

"I know. But I'm not like the others. I knew you would never deceive us."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you. I know I'm incompetent, but I'm no sneak."

"I know. You're not good enough at acting." She smiled, though she didn't really feel like it. But the smile dancing at the corners of Penwood's lips made it worthwhile. "We need to get the civilians out of the way."

An elderly officer named Erik Wilcox (he had showed her around on her first visit, she remembered) cleared his throat. "I'm afraid it might be already too late for that." They had managed to access YouTube. Somebody had filmed the dark, smoke-covered sky over London. Why he had done this after such an attack was a mystery to her, but whoever this psychopath was, Caitlyn was glad for the help. Three zeppelins hovered over London, blocking out the moonlight. The were gigantic, much bigger than any Caitlyn had ever seen, even on TV. The smaller ones were silver. The middle airship, it had to be bigger than Westminster Abbey, was painted in a black and red chessboard pattern. The video quality was too low to read their names, but one thing was sure: In the gondola of this colossal red and black war machine, the Major enjoyed the show. Best seat in the house.

Lights were raining down, tiny comets falling towards the orange lights illuminating the airships and sky from the ground. Then the video ended.

_It's raining men._ Suddenly that joke was not funny anymore. There was a terrified gasp on on of the other consoles. Slowly, Caitlyn walked over to a young IT guy, on legs she barely felt. He had managed to get a shot of London from above. Fire had spread through the streets, fueled by millions of cars with gasoline, trees and whatever else got in the way. Even if there was somebody left to fight it, a conflagration like this was unstoppable. A burning swastika all the way from Kensington to Whitechapel shouted its creator's existence into the world.

Somebody grabbed Caitlyn's arm and helped her into a chair. She didn't protest. Otherwise she would have fallen. "Millennium will target all offices. We should leave as soon as possible," she murmured. Her eyes were fixed on the dark tiled floor. Reports rushed past her. Conflagration, panic, riots, the first vampire sightings. Communications were cut. Something had infiltrated the system.

_Tap-tap-tap. Typing._

All the innocents in London would die. This was all her fault. Had she provoked the Major? Even if not, she should have dealt with this before. Why didn't they see it coming? Walter and Mira should have known. But of course they _wanted_ to fight. The undead had the privilege of not having to mourn. Millennium had roamed freely for more than seventy years why? Were there so many traitors? How could anyone be so delusional? But of course greed was stronger than reason. It always was.

All the policemen, soldiers, authorities that still remained would be directly targeted. The royals, including the queen and most of the Round Table, had left London after the conference. Of course they did. Because they should not die. They would return once the battle was over, London swarming with eight million innocents brutally murdered and turned into ghouls. Caitlyn had lost, had failed everything and everyone she wanted to protect. She died, she survived, it didn't make a difference anymore. The Vatican would lead a crusade to recapture the Protestant territory. Fine with her, as long as they stopped Millennium. There was somebody calling her name, but she didn't listen. She wished Mira was here. The vampire countess always knew what to do, no matter how horrible. She would know how to defeat Millennium. One vampire could only do so much, even Walter. They had failed to obliterate Millennium once. Walter had been human, and a child, back then. That wouldn't happen a second time, right? And her, what should she do? She was useless, both in command and on the battlefield. The former Hellsings would have fared much better. They had been trained for this. Just because she was a descendant of Abigail van Helsing? That medieval bullshit didn't mean anything. Blood didn't mean anything. It didn't make her special.

There was a bang and pain shot through her cheek. Caitlyn found herself on the floor, her jaw burning. Penwood gulped, but Walter made no attempt to cut him to pieces for assaulting his master. Penwood helped Caitlyn to her feet. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

"It's fine." Her head felt a bit clearer now, although she was still frightened and clueless what she should do next. "That was just what I needed. Walter-"

"Lady Hellsing," Penwood interrupted her. Sweat gleamed on his face, but his voice was calm. "I know I am incompetent and I'm a coward. Nothing of this, my status, my rank, I have achieved through my own volition and effort." _Tell me about it. At least you were raised to meet these expectations._ "You need to go. You're stronger than I could ever be, you can win. Defeat Millennium. As to me, I will stay and distribute whatever orders may come in."

Walter suppressed a snicker. Caitlyn didn't feel like laughing, but he was right.

_The Vatican will attack too._

"Sir Penwood, that is the most stupid plan in all of creation."

"You don't understand. It's my duty."

"Your duty is to serve your country, not to die. I really doubt any orders will come in on the modern channels. Use CB and tell everybody to get the hell out of here. Everybody still alive has to leave."

"The military – Irons and Walsh have surely-," Penwood protested.

Caitlyn cut him off. "Sure they do. Tell me, what do the great leaders outside know? They don't see what we see. They have their nice little camp and once this is over, they will strut in and judge everybody who might be left. You can be the one to ask all the innocent souls if the 'honor' of resistance was worth their sacrifice. Give orders to withdraw. Now. And get somebody to pick Mira up. Without her, we can just as well surrender right now. No offense, Walter."

The vampire waved it off, seeming more amused than offended.

"C-Can't she come here using her vampire powers?"

Walter snatched a cigarette from a holder on the table with his wires. "Not over an ocean," he said.

Caitlyn took a few deep breaths. She needed a plan. There was no time for panicking. They wanted a leader, they got one. Even if it was all just pretend. "Alright, get off your asses! Tell Walsh and irons it was all my idea, I don't care, just get everyone out of here. You too. All of you."

"Do we have a chance?", Sir Penwood asked miserably.

Walter chuckled. The sound made Caitlyn shiver. Millennium's soldiers were not the only monsters around. Fortunately, he was_ her_ monster. The creature looking like a young boy blew smoke in the air, slouching on a chair with his legs folded over the armrest. To him, this was just an interesting new game. "No human can stand against an army of monsters," he said. "You just keep giving them more to feast on." He didn't need to add that he would like to join in if not for his loyalty to Britain.

Penwood, his face ashen, nodded slowly. "Alright." He raised his voice, as if he had to drown out some huge noise. "Only the minimum staff remains. The others can go."

"We will be safer in a group," Wilcox said. "Lady Hellsing, you should go. We'll wrap up here." He tossed her a small CB radio. "Official channels are dead. The virus froze almost the entire system. The Internet on most private devices still works, though."

Caitlyn looked at the radio and hesitated. Walter appeared next to her. "Lady Caitlyn, we need to go. Millennium will probably target our HQ as well." She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaking breath. Of course. The Wild Geese were informed, but only human. They wouldn't hold out for long. She would be damned if she let any more of her men die.

"Walter, you-"

"I'm not leaving you here," he interrupted. His red eyes were glowing slightly, a sign he was angry or excited. That little -

_monster._

_What's in a name? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet. And a monster by any other name is still a monster._ He was waiting to be sent into battle. They had felt it coming, both of them, and he had told her. She had just overestimated the time she had left. But nevertheless, Walter was a good butler and loyal to the crown. Loyal to her, because of what she hoped was more than mere duty. He would not leave her side unless she was safe.

Caitlyn looked at all these brave men. She had not signed up for this, but neither had they, so she should better take care they would get out of here. She saluted. "Fare thee well, gentlemen, and God rest you merry."

Every last one of them stood up and returned the greeting. She hugged Sir Penwood. "Stay safe."

"You too," he said softly. He was still scared, but it was the first time she had seen him really determined. And if Penwood could do that, she should as well. Mira would arrive soon and then this would be over in an hour. There had already been too many dead.

"Farewell," Sir Penwood told her, before she left the room. There were dead guards on their way outside, more victims of the traitors. Caitlyn wanted to look away, but didn't allow herself to. The closer they got to the street, the worse the smell of fire got. It was mixed with gasoline, burning metal, and other things she could not (and did not want to) identify. The air was hot and seemed to choke her. Her car was waiting outside, a bit scratched from rubble, but otherwise intact.

Caitlyn stood there for a moment, unable to avert her eyes from the gigantic zeppelin. It was quite a bit away, over the western part of the city, but something that big was impossible to miss.

I'm coming for you Major. Once your troops are dealt with, you have nowhere else to run.

"On the back seat are weapons and a jacket," Walter informed her.

"Can't we just fly? You can do that, right?"

He growled in a low voice. "Not over the Thames. And it's too dangerous. A rocket might not be enough to kill me, but humans are so fragile..." Caitlyn stopped asking and climbed in. A shotgun, the handgun she had been training with the last weeks, and a rapier were lying on the seat.

"Uh, Walter, I'm probably the worst shooter in all of -" Royalty? Nobility? That had to be a joke. "Hellsing."

"The ghouls don't know that. Just shoot." Walter changed to his adult self, so he didn't need to adjust the seat. The strong engine roared and they sped off. Caitlyn was pressed into the seat.

With every meter they made, every block they passed, Caitlyn felt the terror she had thought she had gotten rid of creep back into her mind again, paralyzing her.

London was completely destroyed. Buildings were crumbling, burning, consuming anyone who might be left. She didn't see a living person. The occasional ghoul stumbled past her, to a destination only known to it. Some were missing limbs that had been torn of before death, she was sure. She saw a man whose body was pierced with glass shards, blood running from the popped eyeballs. Caitlyn felt sick in her stomach.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees. She concentrated on her breathing. _Stay calm. This doesn't help you._ The words didn't get through. Neither was the worried "Caitlyn? Caitlyn" from the front. She could hear explosions, screaming, the car getting hit by rubble, smashing through dead, walking bodies.

"Caitlyn!" The brakes screeched and then the world spun as Caitlyn was thrown forward. She landed on the floor of the car, together with her weapons. In the end the coat lazily settled on top of the pile. Her head was throbbing. She managed to free herself. The coat was made of tough black fabric, old, but well-maintained and definitely too big for her. There were faded gold letters engraved in the collar.

_A.H._

Arthur Hellsing? The last head of Hellsing, dead for more than twenty-five years? What the hell...?

"Lady Hellsing, to your left. You might want to shoot." The window rolled down all by itself and showed her a scene that could be straight from a horror movie. A group of policemen had been cornered by ghouls. There was only one of them left, desperately trying to shoot at them with an empty clip. Caitlyn took the gun she had trained with.

_Of all base possessions, fear is the most accursed._

Walter flashed her a smile over the rear-view mirror. It was already too late for the poor man. Caitlyn aimed and controlled her breathing like she had learned. Aiming, shooting, holding. Her shot hit him in the head and she gasped.

"A very good shot, milady," her butler commented. Caitlyn wanted to take out the other ghouls, but Walter rolled up the window and they sped on. There was no point to it anyway. It would only steal valuable time and not help anyone.

"I aimed for the ghoul next to him," she whispered eventually. The gun in her lap felt as if it was burning her hand. She threw it on the bench in disgust.

"It was too late for him," Walter dismissed it. Caitlyn didn't bother to tell him she knew that. It was not the point. From time to time, she could see people, living people, climbing from the ruins, fighting for their lives. The car didn't stop to save them and Caitlyn didn't order Walter to. There was the occasional vampire, easy to spot in a ridiculously authentic World War II uniform, but they didn't pay attention to her. It was like they had orders not to bother her. Walter had found a way where the streets were almost free and they were driving fast.

All these people had lost their lives because she had failed. Because Britain had failed to deal with this problem twice, seventy years ago and today. The Vatican was at fault for helping them. The goddamn traitors were at fault. This disgusting maniac calling himself Major and Führer, their Doctor, and the whole cursed battalion. Mira and Walter had failed to destroy Millennium. Not only the Major was having the time of his life or unlife. For that matter, was he a vampire as well? He had to be, considering he had not aged a bit.

The radio cracked loudly. Statics were drowning out most of the broadcast, but she could make out words. She knew the voice. Walter adjusted the frequency.

"This is Admiral Shelby Magnus Penwood. I'm not sure if anyone can hear me. I hope so. To all of you out there that are still alive, still human. I'm not issuing orders anymore. This HQ has almost fallen and the monsters will knock on our door any moment. This is my last plea to anyone who can hear me. Leave London. All that are still alive have to evacuate. Millennium is not ours to deal with." Caitlyn pressed her hands to her mouth, unable to do anything else. She didn't get anything out but a weak whimper. Why were they still there? They had never planned to leave, she knew now.

"My regards," a voice in the background said. It was Wilcox. "I prefer to die human." A bang and then silence. The sound of boots on the tiles.

"You haf made us a lot of trouble, human," a voice with a strong German accent said. He paused. "Vat's so funny?"

Caitlyn could hear Penwood chuckle softly. "Farewell Caitlyn. Thank you for your trust in me. It was a pleasure to know you."

"Hey, stop zat!", the Millennium soldier barked. Then the connection was interrupted and only statics remained. Caitlyn couldn't breathe. She didn't see anymore, only heard the statics and the sound of the drive.

_Fear is the most accursed._

Caitlyn screamed. It was an animalistic sound full of terror, and rage, and pain. It lasted for several seconds until she broke down, her throat rough and hot. Tears were streaming over her face.

"These bastards! I'm gonna kill them!", she spat, her voice on the edge of breaking glass. "Every last one of them! Not one will get away! They'll pay! They-" She broke off, and wiped her face on her sleeves, sobbing.

"_Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but_ once," she whispered. "Hurry, Walter. The Wild Geese will need us." He nodded and pushed the accelerator down, the car leaping forward. They broke through rubble and dead bodies, not slowing down. Caitlyn ground her teeth. They would pay. What did it matter if she was incapable in fighting herself? Mira and Walter would rip them to pieces and the Vatican's crusade as well if they tried to fuck with her home.

He pressed her hands to her temples. What was she saying? That was how everybody thought and what had gotten them here. It was not her way.

She straightened up, wiping her face with a handkerchief, and fastened the rapier to her hip, then the holster of the small gun. Just in case. Walter had slowed down and she squinted to make out why in the twilight of the fires. There was a dark figure standing in the middle of the street alone.

The car came to a halt. They were near the Globe Theater, Caitlyn realized. It was probably in ruins right now. She had watched a play there barely a month ago. The Globe had burned down once before. It would rise from the ashes again.

"Lady Hellsing, turn around and search for a different route." She winced, snapping out of the much more pleasant memories into the harsh reality she had to face.

"What?"

Walter was already getting out of the car. "Don't look around. Drive as fast as you can."

"You just said ten minutes ago you won't leave me alone!"

But Walter wasn't listening anymore. He walked up to the figure in a relaxed speed indicating he was not the least afraid. "I'm going to get him," he murmured, already preparing the glistening blue wires. "This time he's dead." Now Caitlyn understood. She was not the only one who still had a score to settle with Millennium. She got out of the car and went to the driver's seat.

"Walter!", she called. He stopped and turned around.

"Yes milady?"

"Come back as soon as you can. We'll beat them. We'll kick their butts right back into the forties."

He nodded and turned back to his old enemy. The car's engine roared as Caitlyn sped off. Walter's eyes were fixed on the two red dots glowing in front of him.

Walter grinned at his opponent. "Well hiya there. Looks like we both haven't changed a lot." The wires wrapped around flesh. They stretched to the point of breaking and stayed still. Blood was running over the tall man's hands, but he was still as a statue.

"Indeed, my boy," the Major's voice echoed over the zeppelin's speakers. "It's been seventy years and you haven't changed a bit. I vould love to hear ze story of how zis happened. It surely will be remarkable. And I will even forgive you for interrupting my dinner."

* * *

_Near Globe Theater, 11.30 pm_

Yumie decapitated two of the ghouls with her katana. By now there was a whole flood of them. The Iscariots moved in a wide-spread line, covering the whole street. There was nobody to notice them.

"Hey, look, there's the Globe," Antonio said. Heinkel joined Yumie and they killed off a group of ghouls stumbling aimlessly along. "Anyone ever been in a play?"

Yumie sprinted off, pushed herself in the air on a fallen wall and slashed through a tall ghoul with splinters all over him. "You know, I thought we might go there someday. Watch a play or something," she said to Heinkel. Her partner followed close behind, taking perfect head shots whenever a monster appeared.

"We went there in my last year of school. Stayed a week in London, looked around," Heinkel said. "Was an awesome week." From the London she had known when she was 18 only few things remained. The Globe seemed to be still intact. She could see the Millennium Bridge over the Thames. Quite the ironic name. She wouldn't even be surprised if the Major had let it stand just because of its name. As a reminder.

She remembered walking along the bank with Cassie and Chris, from the Tower Bridge (which was in ruins now) to the Globe, picking up a book on the way, then over the Millennium Bridge in search for something decent to eat. Tate Modern, Tower Bridge, the Tower of London, the Shard, Buckingham Palace, all in ruins. It had been such a beautiful city.

"We too. The orphanage," Yumie said. "Only for a few days, but yes. It was great."

"Do you think it will ever look like it was again?", Marcus asked them. He dodged a ghoul and shot it. It was a little girl.

"Sure, we will rebuild it even better," Giorgio said. He stopped for a moment and stared down at the lifeless young body. The face was gone, and the flower dress soaked with blood. "Pretty sad, huh?", he murmured.

"Yeah," Heinkel agreed. "The kids are always the worst. They can't even choose the right way."

The street seemed empty. The paladins feathered out, weapons ready. Father Anderson was quite a bit out front, being the vanguard. So far, there had been no losses, not even in narrow streets that could easily become a trap, even for professionals. For some reason the vampires left them alone for now.

"I'd love to know – ouch!" A thump and Nils cursed. The paladins around him stopped. Nils was one of the new ones, passing his exam only this year. Now his pale cheeks turned a bright red. He rubbed the scratch on the right one and laughed uncomfortably. "I'm good. Just a scratch." He had a soft Swedish accent. Angelo, one of the instructors, pushed his hand away and inspected the wound.

"A rock? What happened?"

Nils nodded. "...I tripped." The others roared with laughter. That story would follow him the rest of his life. It would always begin with "Do you remember when you...". If he made it out of here alive. Everybody somehow expected to die this night. Time would show who was right.

"Sorry for the commotion." His best friend, who was only called Hannibal by everyone, slapped him on the back.

"Angelo takes care of us newbies, right?" Angelo was in his forties, but had full blond hair and a thick, neatly trimmed beard.

"Sure," he said. "But if you get hungry, tell us." The paladins laughed. On the edges of the group there was the occasional shot if a ghoul got in their way, but otherwise nothing spectacular happened. If it looked like this everywhere, the crusade would be child's play. The zeppelins were hanging like storm clouds over the city, but they hadn't faced any of the vampires yet. There had to be a reason for that. One of the smaller airships had changed course and was slowly moving towards the city outskirts. They weren't flying fast. There was a lot of time. The night had just started. Yumie frowned, but didn't comment on it. Her sense of orientation might be off and she had never been there herself. Even if they were on their way to Hellsing, that was not her job to worry about.

"You don't become a ghoul if you get bitten, right?", Nils whispered to his friend. The paladin girls exchanged a grin. Fear was getting the better of the boy. Ghouls weren't zombies.

"Of course not," another voice snapped. One could actually hear her roll her eyes. "Only if you die. How did you become a paladin if you don't know that?"

The Thames behind the houses began to swerve southward. Anderson held up a hand and the Iscariots stopped. He listened into his earpiece for a moment.

"I gotta check on something," Heinkel whispered to her partner. Yumie nodded and stayed where she was. Nobody was going anywhere for now. The other paladins, especially the new ones, respectfully stepped out of her way. Heinkel was young in absolute numbers, but in this business she was already an old hand. A survivor. She didn't get her reputation for no reason.

The young paladin with the black hair was in the back, her head bowed as if she was praying. The jacket looked a bit too big for her.

"Caitlyn Hellsing was sighted only ae few streets fae here," Anderson announced. "We'll tak the rooftops." The Iscariots entered the deserted buildings and climbed to the top, a black, silent mass with many heads. The roofs were flat and perfect for traveling. Heinkel followed the group. The black-haired paladin sped up to walk amidst the others. Heinkel grabbed her and dragged her into a small alleyway.

"How the hell did you get here?", she growled, keeping her voice down. Vicky squirmed in her grip, but when she looked up, her dark eyes were furious instead of guilty.

"I sneaked in with the others," she explained without the hint of remorse. "Maybe you should rather wonder why nobody said anything." She did have a point there. Heinkel let go and ruffled the short black strands. "What did you do to your hair?"

"I cut it," the girl murmured defiantly. "Based it off you." Right. The hair color made a huge difference, though. "And now?", she asked.

"You stay with me and Yumie all the time. If Anderson finds out, we're in deep shit. So do what I say."

Vicky nodded, not really convinced. "Okay."

Heinkel cursed internally. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry. I didn't want to slap you. You know-"

Vicky shrugged her shoulders and turned to go. "Sure, whatever. Let's go before we lose the others." She ran up a fire escape. Heinkel followed. _Thanks for the conversation._

The group had quite a head start, but the two caught up when the paladins stopped at a ledge. Heinkel was a bit out of breath from the sprint and stepped up to the edge of the roof next to Yumie. Vicky merged with the paladins behind them, keeping her head low. She was smaller than the men anyway. She was not sure if Anderson would recognize her at first glance after she had cut off her hair, and so far she had gone unnoticed. Renaldo – he really seemed to know everything – had asked if Heinkel knew she was here. Not wanting to lie to him, Vicky had shaken her head. He had merely sighed and asked if she was more worried about an enemy or her teacher killing her.

Then he had said something she didn't understand: "Be careful. She has already suffered enough."

There were shots and a crash, then silence.

"Caitlyn Hellsing!", a rough voice with a German accent announced. "Ve are here in ze name of ze Führer! Say your last prayer!"

Vicky edged forward. She wanted to see what was happening. The Paladins spread out until they filled the edge of the building, all black clothes and blinking crucifixes. Yumie threw her an absent glance, then spun, recognition spreading on her face. She threw a hasty glance at Anderson and changed places with the trainee to keep her hidden. "What are you doing here?", she hissed. "Does H-" She was interrupted by laughter.

Caitlyn Hellsing had managed to free herself from the wrecked car. Even in the flickering lights she looked bad. It was not even the gash on her right temple or the burn on the left. She was pale, and frightened, and weak. She had a rapier in her hand, but it was trembling badly. That was their so-called archenemy? That girl? She didn't seem strong enough to beat anyone, especially not Iscariot.

"You can't escape," the vampire said. "Surrender." Lady Hellsing still seemed to be dizzy from the crash, but raised her rapier. Her eyes wandered over the scene, searching for an escape even now.

"_A knot you are of damned bloodsuckers,_" she said and giggled. It sounded hysterical. "Walter and Mira will crush you, with or without me."

The vampires roared with laughter. "Do you want to die?", the leader asked with a wide toothy grin.

"Of course not. I just wish there was an ally nearby, maybe..." She looked up, directly at the paladins. How did she- ?

"If only, ja? Too bad for you," the first vampire mocked and leaped at her. A bayonet pierced his head and he slammed to the ground a meter from Lady Hellsing's feet. The paladin's laugh echoed through the street. Bible pages fluttered and then he was standing right in front of Caitlyn. What made her so special anyway? Only because she was from Hellsing blood? That was just as stupid as monarchy itself.

Now the damned monsters understood. They stumbled back, eyes wide open, realizing who stood in front of them. "B-bayonet priest."

"Saint Guillotine."

"Killing Judge."

"Angel Dust."

"The regenerator."

"Alexander Anderson," Caitlyn said. She seemed genuinely relieved to see him. He laughed in her face, his voice a roar, but she didn't seem scared.

"Ye really have the nerve tae ask fae oor help? Oor sworn enemies. Ye really are ae remarkable heathen o' all." Some of the paladins chuckled. Asking your enemy for help. What kind of strategy was that? Did she have any strategy at all? Or was she just trying to survive at whatever cost?

"Ye have ma respect, at least that. Heinkel, Yumie, ye heard that? She's lucky the archbishop ordered us to capture her alive."

"He was promoted? Congrats," Caitlyn Hellsing said. Anderson stopped, blinked, and utterly lacked an answer to that. _Uh.. What?_ Did she understand what situation she was in? Vicky was about to ask Yumie about it, but the leader of the vampires stepped forward.

"Du! From ze Iskariot organization! Get out of ze way!"

Anderson looked around. The so-called vampire super soldiers were barely more than frightened kids. Their leader was the only fearless one and that was his mistake. What a fool.

"Hold yer tongue, the dead don't speak," Anderson growled. "Do the dead dare walk the earth before ma eyes? Will the dead raise an army, fall in and advance with those who have abandoned God and raise the heretical order dare to meet my gaze?" The paladin drew his bayonets. The vampires stumbled back, but were too used to obeying their orders to flee. They could have lived a few hours longer.

"Get Lady Hellsing out of the way," Yumie told Vicky before she jumped off the ledge, following Heinkel.

"Iscariot will nae allow it!", Anderson proclaimed. "_I_ will nae allow it!" He formed a cross with his bayonets. "Ye will be cut down like straw, trembling before ma rod. AMEN! Speak up ye men o' God. Tell us all who ye are!"

The Chaos Girls, who weren't chaotic right now, flanked the regenerator. Vicky looked around. She needed to get Lady Hellsing out of the way, but if she jumped down now, everybody would look at her.

"_We are the soldiers of Iscariot!_", the paladins proclaimed. "_We are Judas Iscariot!_" The vampires noticed them only now. Their grim expressions, trying to act like whatever honorable thing they saw themselves as, turned into fear again. The first paladins jumped off the roofs. Vicky just joined in, following the stream and landing on her feet. The slightly too big jacket fluttered in the wind. She didn't have one of her own yet.

"Well then, Iscariot! _Ah ask o' you: Whit do ye hold in yer right hand?_" Vicky managed to push her way through the crowd, as far back as she could so not to disturb the picture of a black, determined wall of God's soldiers. Her mind was on Lady Hellsing, but her mouth formed the words by itself.

"_Daggers and poison!_"

"_Well then, ma soldiers o' Iscariot! Ah ask o' you: Whit do ye hold in yer left hand?_"

"_Thirty pieces of silver and a straw rope!_"

The vampires ran forward. Alexander Anderson let out a battle scream and his bayonets cut the attacking soldier's arms right off. The vampire stumbled back, gasping in pain and blood splashing everywhere.

"Show them who ye are, ma soldiers o' Iscariot!", Anderson demanded. Then all hell broke loose. The vampires began to run, at human speed though, their automatic pistols in both hands. Heinkel was the first to draw her guns. A grin had spread on her face. Vicky drew her guns as well, still trying to get out of the troop of Iscariot's soldiers.

"_We are apostles, yet not apostles!_", Anderson announced. "_Believers, yet not believers!_" He drew new bayonets, balancing the blades between his fingers as if that was the easiest thing in the world. Vicky tripped over something, but finally managed to reach the wall Lady Hellsing had crashed in.

"_We are disciples, yet not disciples! We are heretics, yet not heretics! We are soldiers in the service o' death, who bow oor heads in reverence to oor Laird, and whose prayers have fouled in the withered bodies o' oor enemies._" He jumped and the bayonets pierced the air, blinking brightly in the fire's light. They hit the vampires, their pained screams echoing in the streets. Anderson ran at them, a wide grin on his face. Vicky was too stunned to move. She was lucky there was no enemy next to her. Lady Hellsing just stared at them, openly impressed.

"_Ae poisoned serve at every supper, oor daggers flashing i' the moonlight!_" The vampires fell like straw under a scythe by Anderson's bayonets. He could have won this fight all by himself, Vicky realized. He just didn't want to spoil the fun for everyone else. And maybe not even the great Father Anderson was immune to a bit of bragging. Judging from Lady Hellsing's face, it worked. Vicky almost couldn't focused on her own task, she was too much in awe. Warmth spread through her body when she realized she would be part of this elite group, these great warriors herself once.

No. She already was, even if it was just temporarily. This night, she was a paladin.

"_We are the apostles of Judas Iscariot._" He drew new bayonets, the blades glistening blue.

"Where does he get them from?", Caitlyn murmured. Vicky would have liked to tell her she should just accept it. Holy magic was only available to the greatest of God's soldier.

"_We are his holy flock o' assassins and on the earth on which we were called, we cast our thirty pieces of silver intae the sight o' the Holy and hang oorselves wi' ae rope o' straw._" The bayonets dug onto the vampires' bodies, the hilts beginning to sizzle as the propelling charge took off, ripping them to pieces. Lady Hellsing winced. The paladins drew their guns, in perfect unison.

"_Thus do we move to meet Hell's legions as a mighty army. And form our ranks against Hell's gates._" Their voices echoed in the street, the bullets ripping the vampires to pieces. This was not a fair fight, Vicky thought. She could see her teacher, a grin on her face, her guns blazing. But now the vampires began to fire back. She grabbed Lady Hellsing and pulled her behind a wall. Bullets sparked on the bricks.

"Who are you?", Lady Hellsing asked, looking her over.

"Paladin Victoria Caine," she introduced herself. "I've got the order to make sure you're safe."

"_And prepare to meet the 7,405,926 demons of evil,_" the paladins exclaimed. Yumie dodged the bullets from an automatic rifle, her katana finding no resistance in the enemy. Lady Hellsing stared at her for a moment, then probably decided her eyes had played tricks on her.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be a paladin?"

"Just passed my exam," she lied. "Don't worry." There was a shadow rushing at them. Vicky automatically drew her pistols and pulled the trigger. The vampire dropped to the ground, barely meters from them.

She pushed Lady Hellsing a bit further into the shadows. Her body was itching to join in, seeing her teacher and Yumie fight back to back, having the time of their lives, Father Anderson mowing down these abominations, even as she saw some of her fellow knights fall. Peter, Michele, Glen did not escape the fire of the undead. They died worthy deaths.

With Anderson's last battle scream and the splashing of blood, the first battle in the war against the unholy and unclean ended.

* * *

Soooo... Badass iscariots here, including one that should not be there at all. "Does Heinkel know you're here?" I bet Vicky was so pissed off by that question in the end, because literally everybody who recognized her asked it xD

I really enjoy this scene. Normally I take all the canon dialogue from the manga (simply because it's a lot easier), but for Iscariot's creed I went with the English OVA. Yes, I am aware that Anderson has a weird grammar at a few points, and I'm not entirely sure if I got everything right. If you find a mistake, tell me, please. Also, his accent in the OVA is a lot weaker than in the manga, at least in the pronunciation you can actually write.

Yeah... Avengers reference. I love that movie. (Loki ~) I just couldn't resist. Hehe ~ :P

Poor Caitlyn. She's totally overwhelmed by the whole situation. How lucky the IScariots are there, right? And Walter vs Hans, what will come out of that? (Teasing you, because I'm evil. Sorry xD)

Anyways, I hope you liked it. The next chapter will take a while, because I'm on vacation without Internet. But I'm doing my best.


	22. For whom the bell tolls

Hi there! I'm back! As I said I was on vacation. Bad news: No new chapters for you guys. Good news: I wrote _a shitload. _That's the only way I can describe it. No Internet means no distraction and damn, I was creative! So I will totally make it up to you that I mssed out last week and upload two chapters.

Fits pretty well, because this is somewhat of a flashback chapter again. Since I know it's kinda hard to keep track of all the dates (I have a list for that, but I'm the author, I have to know my shit), here a reminder: While Enrico was rescuing Lisa in Romania, Heinkel was off to Germany to take care of some business. Now you finally get to know what happened (and a few more things about her as well). I wrote the beginning of this chapter when I was three chapters into the story (during physics class... and now I don't have school anymore. Scary.) and even after all the details that changed during the writing process of Renegade, I could keep it the way it was almost word for word. Do with that information what you want, I found it interesting.

If you have difficulties understanding some things, you might want to look at the bottom of the page, there's a transcript of a part I thought needed it.

Have fun!

* * *

**Chapter 21: For whom the bell tolls**

_Outside Munich, August 24th, 2016_

When Klaus Wagner woke up, it was very dark. His head was buzzing like he had drunken too much. He knew that feeling well, but he could have sworn he didn't go out drinking last night. He didn't want to start his life in freedom by forgetting who he was. He wanted to celebrate his freedom properly. Finally, after fifteen years. Maybe God really was on his side, like the bald little priest in jail had wanted to make him believe.

His shoulders hurt. After a moment he realized his hands were tied behind his back. There was some kind of grate behind him. No, not a grate. Pipes, like in some old factory. He even had an idea where he was. No. His fantasy was going overboard again. Something metallic banged against the pipes. Shackles. Maybe he really had been drinking and now the police had arrested him again.

And if that wasn't enough, tiny stones had dug into his jeans and his butt hurt like he had been riding on a fucking hedgehog.

"Where am I?", he asked aloud, in German. His voice echoed, so either the room was very large or completely empty.

"You're awake," a female voice said. It was dark, and a bit rough, but melodic. It seemed somewhat familiar. Just the kind of familiar you know you should recognize, but didn't quite. Whatever it was, his subconscious knew who she was. Without knowing why, the voice scared him.

"Who are you? Where am I? Was I in an accident?"

The woman laughed. "Oh yes, you were in an accident. The accident in the shop."

His head cleared gradually and he realized he must be blindfolded. "Are you one of the demonstrators? It was an accident! I did my time! I'm a free man!"

This time, her laugh sounded shaky. For a second he thought she might be crying. That would have been better. No, she was not crying. She was furious, but professional enough to not let it show too much. "Because the surveillance got lost," she said softly.

"Y-Yes." And it had been the best feeling in the world. Seeing the flustered judge and persecutor, that bitch who wanted him in custody for the rest of his life because he was "too dangerous".

Now the mysterious woman sounded almost amused. "What if I told you I arranged that?" Wagner gulped. What had been the luckiest day in his life... a scheme? The woman took off the scarf covering his eyes. He blinked into cold neon lights. The place hadn't gotten a dusting in months, possibly years. A factory, like he had thought.

Wagner could only see her slender shape towering over him. Her face was impossible to make out against the light stinging his eyes. But he saw her short, unruly hair, like a pale golden halo, and the holsters on her thighs. Big guns, at least .45. How did she get those in the first place? This was Germany, not some US province with a trigger-happy sheriff!

"Why would you do that?", he asked carefully. If he could free himself, he might be able to overpower her. The years in prison had helped to make him fit. You had to work out every day to retain your position. Guys who injured little girls were not exactly popular. His body felt a bit rusty, but if he could free his hands...

The woman kicked him in the guts. Wagner doubled over as far as the shackles allowed, unable to draw breath for several seconds. It felt as if his body turned itself inside out. He groaned.

"Why? Because prison is too good for you!" And still she sounded fairly calm, even serene. _She's insane._ He was in the hands of a maniac, Wagner realized. An angry one at that.

"Who are you?", he croaked. Her foot, clad in a heavy boot, hit his shoulder. He was thrown back against the pipes. It broke, freeing the shackles, and he sagged to the ground. Wagner rolled on his back, trying to get away from one of the sharp splinters threatening to dig into his arm. Her boot settled on his throat. "I think you know very well who I am."

Wagner didn't dare to move. There was dirt on her boots like on the hallway floor he lay on. These were expensive, made for the army or something. Kidnapping him, preparing this spot, without leaving a trace... This was not the work of an amateur. The weight pressed against his throat. He gasped, more than he actually needed to, and she resettled the boot on his chest, just below his neck.  
"You're the girl," he whispered. "The girl that shot my friends."

She laughed. "Friends?" He didn't answer. He thought to see a grin. "You know my name."

Wagner was close to chocking. Tears welled in his eyes. But he couldn't hide hate and disgust in his voice. "Heinkel Wolfe."

She moved a little and for the first time, Klaus Wagner could see her face. She had grown up, but it was the same girl. The same androgynous features and blazing green eyes. The wounds had healed and left white scars running from the corners of her mouth. The surgeons had done quite a good job. The little beast had become an attractive woman. Only those scars were irritating. She had waited a long time for her revenge. Panic struck him.

"I did my time! I know I was wrong!", he almost shrieked.

"Sorry doesn't turn back the time, even if you really mean it." Her voice was shaking, just for a second. "I was twelve years old."

"Please!", he begged. Heinkel took away the foot and pulled him in a sitting position, looking him over. Wagner tried to look as harmless as possible.  
She snorted. "Not so tough anymore, now that your opponent is not a little girl?"

"You shot them!", he defended himself, close to getting hysterical.

"That was your fault," she said, her voice flat. He stared at her, a deadly angel surrounded by burning white light. "Guess what, asshole. The little girl grew up, and she's pissed." She drew the right gun. It was huge. The muzzle looked about as big as the Euro-Tunnel.

"Please don't kill me!", Wagner begged. He had just gotten his freedom back. Fifteen years were enough. Heinkel laughed. People really didn't change. The same pathetic, miserable coward like fifteen years ago.

"I won't kill you, idiot. Not yet. But you will beg me to when we're done here."

"It was an accident!", he shrieked.

She waved her hand in an impatient gesture. "We're not in a court room and I'm not a judge. We both know what happened." She smiled. I was hard and cold and scared Wagner to death. How could anyone let her walk around freely? Everybody had to see she was dangerous.

Heinkel grabbed his collar and dragged him away from the wall. Wagner had to crawl, but so far, except for his aching shoulders and the hit to the head, he was unharmed. He could almost hope help was on the way. The persecutor had demanded him to be under surveillance. Wagner didn't know if the court had allowed it, though. She jerked him upright. Wagner was kneeling in the middle of the hallway. Maybe she would just shoot him. He had a vague feeling that was better than what else might happen. The Wolfe-girl (that's what he had always called her, as if her first name carried some horrible curse) stood behind his back, one hand on his shoulder to prevent him from running. His legs were shaking too bad for that anyway. "Say 'Aaaah'."

Wagner looked up at her. The same instant he realized what was going on. It was an exact repetition of the 'accident' fifteen years ago. She had only been a girl, tall for her age, but still a child. She had looked up at him with those huge smoke-green eyes full of fear, but also determination and anger. Maybe that was why he had chosen her. Breaking a true rebel was quite the temptation. Only that this particular rebel did not break. He asked her to fight back. And she did.

"Open your mouth as wide as you can. Or do you want to lose the complete jaw?" She was repeating the exact same words he had said. Wagner hesitated, then opened his mouth. "Go on!" Wagner opened his mouth as wide as he could. Maybe she would be satisfied with scaring him. He could at least prevent the damage. He would be able to live with scars like hers. He would even go back to jail if that meant to be safe. The muzzle of the gun was burning on his skin like ice.

"Please..." She hadn't begged. Maybe that had saved her. Pain flared in Wagner's mind.

The gunshot echoed through the corridor. Blood splashed, mixed with tissue and the fractures of teeth. Wagner howled and collapsed to the ground. The bullet had ripped through his cheeks, tearing them away with some of his molars. Heinkel watched him cringe and wail on the floor, his hands still bound by the shackles. Deep down she had a feeling this was not right. It was not what she had been taught. As a warrior of God she should stand over heretics like him.

But her doubts were drowned out in the overwhelming satisfaction she felt. He had almost ruined her life and definitely ruined her face. She had waited too long for this moment to back down now. She kicked him and he rolled on his back, writhing like a fish on land. His gray eyes were huge and frightened. He was crying from pain and fear. "Bleahse..." His words were muffled, like hers had been after the surgery. But in the pool of blood his hands had become slippery and he managed to get out of the left shackle. He tried to get up, hot liquid running over his face. She aimed the muzzle at his head. He froze. She wouldn't shoot him. Not yet. A moment later he regretted his body's reflex to obey. Death would have been better. He had hurt her and she would repay him a thousand times over.

"You're a joke. I was tougher than you when I was twelve," she spat. Then a grin crossed her features. "I won't give you an opportunity to strike back," she said. "I don't think you will, weak as you are, of course." She giggled and that was the scariest bit. "Even if, you couldn't beat me. This is just the first step, just so you know." Wagner nodded. Maybe he thought if he cooperated he would come off better. As if that would make a difference. He would suffer and then he would die like a heretic deserved.

The intro of Carry on wayward son echoed through the corridor. Heinkel took out her phone. She didn't bother to turn away or even go down the corridor to take the call. She didn't need to hide anything. The heathen would be dead after this anyway. The dead didn't give away any secrets. "Hello?"

Brenda was as cheerful as ever. "Hi, honey. Sorry to come at you out of the blue, but I heard you're in town. Want to get a coffee? I'd like to discuss something with you."

Heinkel smiled. She hadn't seen Brenda in an eternity, almost a year now. And those words stirred up an expectation she would rather leave buried until she knew more. It weren't the words she was waiting for so long, but almost. "No problem. Where?"

"I'm at the Marienplatz."

"I'll be there in half an hour. See ya." She turned back to Wagner. He hadn't even tried to call for help. Probably he thought it would make her even more angry. Self-preservation went strange ways sometimes. The human mind was so easy to trick. "I'll give you a break while I'm going to meet a friend." She hunkered down, pondering a moment if she should just chain him to the fragile pipes again. "The friend that fixed what you did to me."

"Bhell, fhe didn't do a phery good chob." _Well, she didn't do a very good job._ Maybe he could trick her if she was angry enough. Angry people made mistakes, even those with a military training. She had to be a professional. He saw it in the way she moved. His words were muffled and every movement hurt, but it also hurt if he didn't speak. But instead of getting angry, she smiled. She had a pretty smile. A pretty smile for a pretty girl. A pretty and _deadly_ girl. She fixed the loose shackle around a pipe. One of his hands was still free. Maybe he could-

"High five." He automatically raised his hand. The bullet shattered two bones, ripped through the flesh, and slammed into the wall behind him right next to his head. Rusty metal rained down. Wagner stared at the hole where his palm should be. He could see the dusty floor, sprinkled with blood. It took a moment until the pain settled in. Wagner howled like a cornered animal, clutching the bleeding hand to his belly. "Pha-", he blubbered. "Phy?"

"So you don't get any funny ideas," she said. In a surge of pained rage he leaped at her. She pointed the gun at his leg and he fell back, whimpering. She hadn't even pulled the trigger.

"That's a good boy. Now, don't run away. Not that you'll get out of here in the shape you're in. Feel free to scream as much as you want. Nobody will hear you. Ciao~"

She holstered the gun and walked down the corridor, shutting off the lights. Wagner was drenched in darkness.

* * *

Heinkel climbed up a staircase and stuffed her greatcoat and guns in a bag. She would leave them here for now. She hated going unarmed, but in Germany it was next to impossible to carry a weapon, especially with the warm weather. People got nervous. She had a license for her weapons, but it would only cost her time and make people remember her.

She would go home to change, maybe shower, and then meet Brenda. Vicky was cruising the city with Alessia. The two had understood each other from the first minute. Both had already begged Heinkel to return on the first of October, when Vicky and her band "Thirty Pieces of Silver" would give their first big concert. Heinkel was already excited herself, even though she tried to play it cool. Of course they would come back. Maybe she even got Enrico to allow Yumie and Lisa to come, hell, maybe he and Anderson would even accompany them as well. Why bloody not? (Well, except the fact that some of the songs were based a bit too much on real events... and could easily be taken for criticism. Anderson might not be happy about it. Enrico would be really pissed about it.) They were under a lot of stress lately, she knew that. But she would be damned if Millennium ruined her little sister's big moment!

Half an hour later Heinkel wandered over the huge Marienplatz, looking for her friend. She had changed into short black pants and a top. It was not an appropriate outfit for a nun, of course, but Heinkel had never really seen herself as such. She was a paladin. A warrior of God. She didn't need to run around in a skirt for that. Yumie had her way and Heinkel had hers.

A waving coffee-colored hand caught her eye. She walked over and Brenda hugged her. Her hair was a bright red now and her eyes had their normal dark color. "So good to see you again," she beamed. They sat down on a table of a small cafe. Heinkel ordered a water and refused a snack.

"Mum kills me if I don't eat this evening."

Brenda laughed. "Fair enough. Never tempt a mother's wrath. Besides, I hear Alessia's band is finally going to start on the big stage?"

"Yup. First of October. I'll come here for that, of course."

"Good. I already got a ticket." For about fifteen minutes, they held the usual chit-chat. Who had gotten married with whom (more of that from Brenda than from Heinkel), and what had been going on at their places. Brenda asked about Heinkel's friends, most of whom she had never met personally, and told her about their common acquaintances at the martial arts school Brenda still visited. Heinkel had never let her friend know more than necessary about her work, as much as that hurt. Brenda was kind enough to accept Heinkel wanted a break from it when she came to visit. She probably thought Heinkel was part of some Swiss Guard like group. Maybe that was not so wrong.

"I ran into your sister earlier today. She was showing a girl around she said you brought. Victoria."

"Yeah, she's... kinda like my student. I thought she might like Munich."

"Looked like she did." Brenda's dark eyes never left her face and Heinkel didn't back down. Of all people she knew, maybe Brenda understood her best, even better than Yumie sometimes. And that without knowing any details. Eventually, Brenda looked away when their drinks and a piece of chocolate cake arrived for her. "I'm paying," she said immediately. Heinkel knew better than to protest. They waited until the waitress had gone back inside before they continued the conversation.

"Why did you want to talk to me?", Heinkel asked.

Brenda impaled a sliver of cake. "Can't I go out to chat with an old friend?" Heinkel said nothing. She waited until her friend had chewed and swallowed the first fork of cake. Brenda looked her over with a vague sadness in her face. Then she said, "I might have found a way. It's experimental laser technology and we are still waiting for the approval of a test series."

"When?"

"January, I suppose. It would take blocks of three days in between a recovery of about a week each. If it gets approved at all."

"Is it dangerous?" She was not scared. She had faced worse injuries and enemies alike. She was just curious. German regulations were strict. Sometimes a bit too strict for her taste.

"Only if an amateur does it. Darling, it's only a possibility. I don't know anything for sure."  
"That's good enough for me."

Brenda sighed and pecked at her cake. "I'll call you the moment I know anything for sure. Just thought you should know."

Heinkel smiled. "Thank you."

"Will you visit him?" Heinkel nodded, a dark blanket setting over her. The blanket had been heavier before, a lot heavier, and next to black instead of the dull gray it was now, but it was enough to make her feel foreign and misplaced in the bright sun and crowds of loud, cheery people.

"Of course." Brenda took her hand and squeezed it. "Should I come with you?"

"No, I'm fine." Not fine, really, but used to it. Boiled down to the same thing. "Maybe I'll take Vicky with me."

"Did you tell her?"

"Not yet."

Brenda did her best to let the conversation move on. After a while she had finished the piece of cake. "You gonna come sparring this evening?"

"Nah. I've got something else to do. Sorry. Tomorrow, maybe? Vicky needs the exercise."

"Sure, why not? The others will be pumped to see you're back. Except those who still want to beat you. They won't be happy to find there's someone else as good as you now." She laughed. "How long are you staying?"

"Not long. We're flying back day after tomorrow early in the morning," Heinkel said. Damn shame, actually, but Section XIII was waiting for her. With all this fuss about the Nazi remnants, who knew if she would be needed soon. And she would be back on October 1st, no matter what.

They left the cafe and walked to the next metro. Heinkel felt a bit guilty for pretending to use it in front of her friend. She had a rental car, just for this day, on a fake passport with an English name. The perks of being a Vatican special agent traveling the world. She had spoken English with a slight Italian accent when she picked it up, to confuse whoever might follow the lead even more. Not that she planned to leave any trace of the heathen bastard.

They said goodbye and Brenda headed back to the clinic while Heinkel went down into the metro, got herself a newspaper, and exited at the other end of the station. Her Dad would be happy. He was always complaining he forgot to buy one on his way home from work. It was a miracle that was the only thing he regularly forgot.

She walked around aimlessly for a while and admired the city she had lived in for so long, the tall, old buildings and their modern interior. Incredible to think it had been in ruins seventy years ago. Even more incredible to think her teacher had already been alive then, had been a teenager, only a year younger than Vicky now. The Regenerator was older than her grandparents, if they would be still alive. Time was such a weird thing.

After a while, she headed for her car. She automatically checked if she was being followed, but of course that was ridiculous. Who would tail her here? She was not on some mission and had no enemies around. Heinkel drove back to the house in Neuhausen. When she walked to the front door, she was greeted by muffled rock music. Looked like Alessia had decided to show Vicky what she would perform soon. This particular song didn't seem familiar to Heinkel for some reason, though she had received a CD from her sister and copied the songs on her phone to listen to them on the road. She opened the door and was almost blasted off her feet by the bass. The walls were thicker than she remembered. She had been away for too long. The song was good, maybe even better than all the others. Alessia's voice was crystal clear, every tone part of the harmony.

When the song ended, Heinkel politely cleared her throat and two teenagers, one only barely older than the other, ran at her. "Man, teacher, why didn't you tell me you had a rock star in your family?"

Alessia blushed under her tan. "Don't be silly. I'm not- But seriously, sis, why didn't you bring Vicky here earlier?"

"I guess you are good with each other, then?"

"I didn't think I would hear that much giggling again after you moved out," Elena said, coming down the stairs. "And loud music, of course." She smiled down at the three girls. Heinkel was relieved to see everyone was good. The way her Mum smiled she had already taken Vicky in as a part of the family. That was good. Great, actually. Vicky could need that.

"Ah, besides, I met Brenda." There was a glimmer of worry in both her Mum's and Alessia's face. "Vicky, we're going to my old martial arts club tomorrow. Prepare to kick ass."

"Heinkel Elisabeth Wolfe!", Elena said and put her fists on her slender hips. "As long as you're in my house, you better watch your language, young lady!"

Vicky stared at Elena for a second before blushing a deep red from trying not to laugh. "Elisabeth?"

Heinkel sighed. It turned out as a growl. "Don't tell anyone. Stupid German laws."

Victoria made a zipper motion across her lips. "Is that still on your passport?"

"Only the German one," the paladin murmured. "Never mention it again." Vicky was smart enough to do so. Elena shook her head and wanted to say something when her husband came from the kitchen, accompanied by a cloud of hot steam. As if it was not already warm enough. He wiped his dark hair out of his eyes. "My favorite four lioness- I mean ladies. Feeding time draws near."  
Heinkel had to grin. It felt good to be home for a while. Her "real" home was in Rome, sure, she had a flat there and all of her friends. But that couldn't replace her weird, funny parents and her equally weird, wild sister. Not that Heinkel had been an angel or anything. That seemed to be common with the ladies in this family.

They sat down while Damian went back into the kitchen to return with he probably saw as the most German food ever: Sauerkraut. Heinkel groaned. At least that was not a common sight in Italy. Then pasta and cordon bleu and bread and half a dozen other things... Damian had cooked for a dozen people again, not everything fitting together, like always when a guest was over. To Heinkel's horror, Vicky seemed to enjoy sauerkraut and took a second plate. Alessia ate barely anything, pointing out the new, tight clothes she had bought. Heinkel ruffled her hair. "Don't be silly. You'll need your strength if you are on stage. And just so you know, you're coming with us tomorrow." Alessia sighed, suppressing a smile, and got herself bread and herbed butter. "Whatever you say, sis."

For a while, the meal continued in munching silence until they were mostly done. There was a lot left. Lunch tomorrow would look pretty much the same then, Damian announced.

"Shall I make more sauerkraut?" Vicky nodded with enthusiasm. "God no!", Heinkel said at the same time. Her family erupted into laughter.

"Hey, teacher?", Vicky asked.

"Yeah?"

Alessia interrupted. "That's so weird, hearing somebody call you teacher."

Vicky blushed. "Just... a habit. It sounds right to me."

"Speaking of which, how are Father Anderson and the others? Yumie and the Maxwell kids," Elena asked. Vicky looked at her with big eyes. "Who...?"

"Except they're not kids anymore, Mum," Heinkel said, not for the first time. "Enrico's almost 30 and he's a bishop."

"I know, I know," her mother sighed. "Time passes so fast. Does he still have the long hair?"

Heinkel laughed. "I think you'd have to kill or knock him out to cut his hair."

They cleaned up the table while Damian went to get some sort of order in the chaos he had produced in the kitchen. "You better stay out of his way," Alessia advised Vicky.

"And Yumie and Yumiko, how are they?"

"Oh, they're good. We're kinda busy."

"So, you're here while the others are working?", Alessia said with a grin. Heinkel nudged her and she dodged it, giggling. She brushed the small table with the phone next to the kitchen door, and the newspaper Heinkel had bought finally lost its balance. God seemed to work miracles today, because the pages didn't get sprawled all over the floor. It just lay there, not really flat, but not really rolled up either. Heinkel picked it up.

"Oh, Dad, I brought you a newspaper, by the way," she said loudly, but without opening the kitchen door. She was a reckless paladin, not suicidal. Suicide missions were only an option if she could shoot back. There was a curse and a splash, then silence, until Damian poked his head out. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Newspaper," she repeated and waved the roll in front of his face.

"Oh, but I brought... wait, no, I didn't. Thanks." Heinkel placed the newspaper on the now clean table with a grin. Some things never changed. Some things should never change.

"Teacher?", Vicky asked. She had picked up a photo from the long line standing on the shelf of the small fireplace. The photo was encased in a glass frame. It was not quite the same Heinkel had at her place in Rome, but similar. Alessia shot her a nervous glance before she announced she would go and work on a new song.

"You had long hair once?", Vicky asked, astonished.

"Sure, why not?" It was getting dark already. She should get going.

"Was that your boyfriend?" She was looking at the back of the photo. In a neat, sharp handwriting, somebody had written "I love you".

Heinkel took the photo out of Vicky's hands. Against her will, she studied it again, despite knowing every detail. The "boy" had messy dark hair, bright blue eyes and wore a black Rise Against shirt and equally black jeans. Heinkel was in a similar dress and had a bag strapped over her shoulder. He was a real treat, the kind of man every girl turned around to look at. He had an arm around Heinkel's waist and both were grinning. Vicky had had to look twice to see the scars were there. Heinkel's green eyes were accentuated with black and the blond hair reached down to the middle of her back.

"Yes," she said softly, and put the frame back where it belonged. Automatically she touched the silver cross around her neck. "He was my boyfriend. Christoph. Everybody just called him Chris."

Vicky looked at her, feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden. She had obviously touched a topic her teacher didn't talk about much.

"I'll introduce you tomorrow," Heinkel said, in such a cheerful tone it had to be fake. She turned around and walked to the front door. Vicky followed.

"Hey, keep my sis busy, would you? Enrico said I should pick up stuff from some address around here." Vicky frowned. Heinkel stopped and shrugged her shoulders. "I could think of a better occupation too. Anyway, I'm sure Alessia's happy to have some company."

Vicky knew better than to start a discussion now. "Uh... teacher, I didn't want to ask before... is Alessia Italian?"

"Half Italian. Don't worry, she won't bite you." And with that, Heinkel marched out the door.

* * *

She had parked the car several streets away, where no one she knew would see it. Dawn was falling and it was late enough for most of the traffic to have subsided. Once she had left the official roads, Heinkel turned off the headlights. She parked the car near a small stretch of forest and went on by foot. It was about half a kilometer over a stretch of dusty path between trees and fields. The old factory was more than five floors high, plus two basement levels. She wouldn't dare to push her luck by going into the top floors, but the basement did just fine. Even if Wagner screamed his head off, nobody would hear him, even if the visitor was standing right next to the front door. And nobody would find him for a long time. Until this "modern" city, spreading continuously, decided to either absorb or simply destroy the wasteland of the factory. It had already been empty when Heinkel was a child. The owner had made sure that it remained untouched, until twenty years after his passing. It was private property and there was no urgent need the state could use to force the lawyers to give it up. So, here it was crumbling and would for quite a while, for whatever reason the owner had based his decision on.

Heinkel entered through the open door at the side and followed the dusty corridor. With a flashlight from the car, she found the bag, put on the coat and gloves and strapped her holsters around her thighs. Immediately, she felt a lot better, though technically there was nothing around able to hurt her. That kind of paranoia was part of her. The job did this to you.

Heinkel shut off the flashlight and found her way along the dark hallway to the staircase. She had explored the building yesterday after she had sent Vicky shopping with her Mum and Alessia. She had never been and would never be a fan of malls, a fact known to everyone, so at least nobody asked any questions. She heard the ruffling of clothes as her footsteps echoed on the concrete. Damn it, she thought. In her haste to get away before Vicky could ask any more questions, she had forgotten to pack her working clothes. She didn't want any blood on these and to make it even worse, she was wearing shorts. Skin meant evidence, however unlikely it was anyone came looking for Wagner here.

Her fingers found the light switch and she flicked it upwards. Wagner was gone. For a second, Heinkel could only gape at the spot he should have been. He was severely injured. She had shot through his hand. Foot would have been better, it seemed. He was a wimp. And still, somehow he had managed to rip off the pipe and get away. She wasn't sure if she should be angry about her own carelessness or astounded by his persistence on not dying in a ditch. It was better than the shock that had disturbed her normally perfect concentration, if only for a second.

"Not bad at all," she said aloud. "I'm impressed. You're not as weak as I thought." But no matter how strong, everybody bled. And there was an obvious trail leading along the dusty floor. It was still fresh. He couldn't have come far.

Heinkel followed the red drops to a corner, where the trail stopped. She frowned. The light bulbs had burned out and this part, like most of this concrete wasteland, was only pale light and vague shapes in the shadows. "He must have turned around," she said and did the same. A woosh of air behind her. Something heavy hit her. Somehow he had managed to put more force behind the blow than she had expected. He was heavy and pretty strong. Both went down. Heinkel could have easily knocked him out right there, or just kicked him in the balls, but where was the fun in that? She rolled around and slammed down, him under her back. Something gave way with several cracks and he gasped. She shook him off and punched him right in the face – it left red smudges on her gloves – and he fell back, panting. Now his nose was broken too. He tried to get up, but she easily twisted his arm until he screamed while she dragged him back to his rightful place.

"Nice try," she said, amused. "Really, not bad. But tell you what, you should have run or just hid. Try to get help."

"Are ve anyphere neah hanyhone hou hould help me?", he croaked. It wasn't even a real question. "And heven if, phouldn't hyou chust hill hem hoo?"

Heinkel pushed him against the wall and let go. His shoulder might have popped out, might also not. He gasped, for whatever reason. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not hurting innocents. The only one who's going to die is you."

"Nepher phought a little hirl could-" He coughed. Blood sprayed on the floor. The fight might have cracked a few ribs. He was hard to understand, even for her. Had she talked like that? The memory made her angry.

"Little girls grow up and become dangerous," Heinkel said. "Especially those who get hurt by sick bastards like you."

"Helieve me or no', hi'm phorry. It phouldn't haph happened. Doephn't make a dipherence anymohe, hight?" He laughed, which turned into another bloody cough. "Phat are hyou, anyphay? Phome hind of phigilanhde?"

Heinkel looked down at the pathetic creature that had almost ruined her life years ago. A vigilante? By far not. "Let's just say I belong to an organization that puts away with monsters and heathens like you."

"Heaphens, huh? Pho hyou're hone of phe 'ious hind. Shute. Phe're hyou praying phor his help phen I phot hyou? Phen hyou hay phere, shust a phimpehing, broken doll? Phere hyou, little girl?" The last two words he pressed out almost without blurring them.

For a second, there was a red film over her vision. Heinkel was close to just pulling out her gun and shooting him in the heart, but then she realized that was what he wanted. Instead, the bullet hit his leg. Wagner shrieked.

"God helps those who help themselves. We're only his weapons. The earthly agents of divine punishment, if you will."

"Really?" Heinkel spun at the voice behind her. Vicky looked from her to Wagner and then to her again. Her dark eyes were dull with terror and disappointment. She must have been standing there for quite a while.

"What are you doing here?", Heinkel snapped. "I thought you were with Alessia." Something else was more crucial, though. "How did you get here?"

"I followed you yesterday. Thought I'd train my tracking skills, like you said I should."

Well shit me sideways, she sure did. "Ah," Heinkel said, torn between anger and pride of her student. "Well, good job. I didn't notice you."

Vicky came a bit closer and looked down on Wagner. He looked at her and the hope in his eyes was replaced by a mixture of madness and desperation, one fueled by the other.

"Ho, hook, hyou phroughd hyour little phriend, doo. His phe anopher 'ashend of diphine bunishmend'?" He laughed.

"Shut up!", Heinkel said and pointed her gun at his other leg. Wagner obeyed. She didn't have to do anything, she realized. Every second hurt him. He was going to rot here even if she just left now.

"Teacher, what are you doing?", Vicky asked. Her voice was trembling badly. "What is this? Who is that?"

Heinkel laughed. Her voice was shrill with anger. "Isn't that obvious?" Vicky stared at the wounds her teacher had inflicted on this harmless-looking man and didn't want to ask anymore. Not harmless. Pathetic. Her teacher answered anyway. "That is the bastard who almost killed me fifteen years ago. He was in no immediate danger. I was just a scared twelve year old girl. And he tortured me just for the fun of it. Now tell me, Vicky, if he deserves to burn in hell."

Her throat felt dry. She nodded, slowly. Of course he did. "It's not ours to inflict punishment on sinners like this. We only hand them over to the eternal judgment. And we're going to hell for it anyway." She pressed her lips together and wiped her eyes. Like hell she would cry now.

Heinkel snorted. "Whatever. I'm going to turn him over soon, sure. But first I've got a few things to settle." She raised her gun again. Vicky's sudden appearance changed everything.

The girl grabbed her hand. The shot hit the floor and bounced off the wall. Heinkel spun, her green eyes blazing. Vicky was afraid, of what she was doing and what her teacher was doing, but she didn't back down. That never did anyone good. They were making a big mistake here. This was not how Iscariot was working. They killed in the name of God, not for some personal grudges, Father Renaldo had taught her.  
"Stay out of this!", Heinkel growled.

"Is this what it means to be a paladin?" Vicky was shocked how bitter her own voice sounded. Her teacher didn't listen. She pushed a letter and a piece of paper in her hands. Vicky had the choice of either dropping it or taking it. She recognized Father Renaldo's handwriting and took it.

"Get out. Go to that address, give whoever is in charge the letter and collect what they want to give to us. Enrico said I should do that myself, but as you can see, I'm busy here." Enrico or Renaldo? She was constantly messing that up, Vicky noticed. Was it important?

Vicky's hands were trembling when she put away the letter and address. "Busy with torturing a... this man?" He was not innocent, no. Maybe not even a civilian.

"I said get out! Do what I say, at least this once, for fuck's sake!"

Vicky took a step back. "You told me revenge doesn't accomplish anything."

"I'm ridding the world of a heretic," she said wryly. "That is reason enough." Vicky shook her head, taking another step back.

"No, teacher. This is not the work of God. This is your own personal vendetta."

For a moment, she thought her teacher would actually come to her senses. Then she sighed, smiling. "Well, if so? The world's a cruel place. The bible says so. An eye for an eye."

"That's not-"

"I guess I still wanted you to have a childhood after all," Heinkel said without paying attention to her student. "Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetie, but it is like it is."

"So you can just go and have the revenge you always wanted, am I right?" Vicky clenched her hands into fists. "I see. Well if you can do that, I can as well." She turned around and started running, not caring what her teacher might call after her. If she did. So the adults were allowed to pay back what had been done to them? Very well. If this was the work of God, she would happily embrace it.

* * *

_Munich airport, August 26th, 2016_

A little boy dropped his ice cream and his stressed-out mother yelled at him until he started crying, then he got another ice cream as a sorry. A couple shared a teary goodbye. Vicky was sick of watching other people, but there was not much else to do. After what her teacher had told her, Vicky didn't really want to think about how hard it had to be for her to see couples, maybe even mothers with their family. It even was the same damned place, the very same spot they were standing now. Vicky almost wished she hadn't asked at all.

Since the visit to Chris they had barely talked. They had barely talked before that either. Their argument from the factory still lingered in the air, during the meals, the training. The whole family felt it and Vicky began thinking she shouldn't have come here in the first place. She hadn't asked what Heinkel had done with Wagner. She had come home soon after Vicky, around midnight, so she must have ended it soon after Vicky left. He deserved it anyway. Somehow, he deserved it. And now he was burning in hell. Like all the monsters she would hunt down. Especially those who had turned her parents into ghouls and made Iscariot destroy them.

"Flight IT-1507 to Rome is departing in twenty minutes. Passengers please check in their luggage and go on board."

"We gotta go," Heinkel said. Vicky jumped to her feet.

Elena hugged her daughter. "I wish you could stay longer."

"I know. But I can't let the others down. It's all so busy and I gotta bring them this." She pointed at the silver metal briefcase next to her feet. It didn't look very impressive, small as it was, with a red sticker on it. Vicky didn't know what it read, it was in German, and hadn't asked. "I'll be back for the first of October."

"Promise?", Alessia asked.

Heinkel ruffled her sister's dark curls. "Promise."

While Heinkel said goodbye to her father and sister, Elena hugged Vicky. The girl was completely flustered for a second. She was just not used to this.

"I don't know what you two have been fighting about, but please clear this up. It's heartbreaking to see you two being so cold to each other," Elena said in a low voice. "A family sticks together." Then, a bit louder: "You'll be there too, right?"

"S-Sure...", Vicky said.

"You better be!", Alessia grinned. "Otherwise I'll be really mad at you." She extended her fist and after a second's hesitation, Vicky bumped it. That was one hell of a family. It was The Wolf's family after all, it would have been surprised her if they were boring. She could really feel at home here.

They walked to the counter to check in their luggage. Vicky was not one hundred percent sure how Heinkel managed to slip her guns through safety, but there had to be some tricks an experienced agent knew, she assumed. The metal briefcase got through customs without a problem as well, after the man had looked at the sticker.

"What's in there, anyway?", Vicky asked after they were on the other side of the metal detectors.

Heinkel shrugged her shoulders. "Renaldo didn't tell me. He only said it was important, I should take good care of it and bring it to the medical section as soon as I arrived."

"We have a medical section?"

"Not really a section. They're not like Iscariot and the others. You know how much the chiefs are fighting for power, how much politics are involved?" Vicky nodded. She was glad her teacher was talking to her again, although the tension hadn't gone. She hated it. The Wolf was the only family Vicky had. Or... Maybe not anymore.

"Well, the medics are... different. Sure, their work is only one more little gear in this mess of conspiracies and greed. Politics, I mean." Heinkel paused for a second, amused by her own description. "But they're not associated with any Section in specific. The Sections borrow them from time to time. I'm pretty sure the Regenerator technology was developed by them as well, though Iscariot has the monopoly on that. I bet one of the chiefs somehow managed to grab all the documents and hide them away from the rest. Would fit us." She smiled, only a brief flash of white, but Vicky felt as if a weight the size of a factory had been lifted from her shoulders.

"What did that place you got it look like?", Heinkel asked. "And who was there?"

Vicky struggled on how to describe it. "It was a normal family home. Suburbs. Though I don't think a family lived there for quite a while," she said eventually. "That dude had taken out most of the inner walls as well. He was a priest, I think? I'm not sure."

Heinkel raised an eyebrow. "You're not sure?"

"He kinda behaved like one, but if so, he's retired. He was in his late sixties at least, more like mid seventies, I'd say. He was also a scientist. Bit chatty, you know? Wanted to keep me for tea and cookies, but I refused. He didn't say what this was all about."

"What did he take out the walls for?", Heinkel asked.

"For a laboratory, I think. Looked like something with biology to me. Not the kind with white mice in cages or anything, but that was what I thought. Don't look at me like that, how should I tell?"

Elena, Damian and Alessia were standing at the cord separating the passengers from everyone else and waved at them. "Come back soon!", Alessia shouted.

"We will!", Vicky shouted back and got a few annoyed and many amused glances. The paladin and her student waved at the family one last time before they approached the plane that would bring them home.

* * *

**! **I thought it might be difficult to figure out what Wagner is saying, so I made a transcript of what he says:

\- Are we anywhere near anyone who could help me?

\- And even if, wouldn't you just kill them too?

\- Never thought a little girl could-

\- Believe me or not, I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened. Doesn't make a difference anymore, right? What are you, anyway? Some kind of vigilante?

\- Heathens, huh? So you're one of the pious kind. Cute. Were you praying for his help when I shot you? When you lay there, just a whimpering, broken doll? Were you, little girl?

\- Oh, look, you brought your little friend, too? Is she another 'agent of divine punishment'?

* * *

So, backstory for the Wolf. What do you think? About her, about her family? She's one of my favorite characters (you might have noticed), meaning she has one hell of a tragic life. I'm just that cruel. *hehe* (Also, I'm totally into Rise Against right now, so that's the reason Heinkel likes them too... We share a lot of preferences, not only in music.)

Additional info: In Germany you can't name your kid anything. At least you need a second name that makes clear the gender. 'Heinkel' is not really clear (in fact, it's originally a last name), so I gave her that "embarassing" second name. Nothing against Elizabeths... But that name sounds (like many) better in English for some reason.

Sauerkraut is probably THE German stereotype (like Bratwurst and Oktoberfest... no, not all of Germany is Bavaria, just like the US is not entirely Texas or New York, thanks a lot). Uh... back to Sauerkraut. I don't hate it, but I don't really like it either. I'll eat it if there's nothing else and I'm starving. *shiver*


	23. Conquest of paradise

Here we go, part two of my double-update ~ Back to the present. I'm super-curious what you people have to say about my storyline, I almost can't wait to upload the stuff I'm working on right now! Especially because the following chapters were freaking _hard_. Seriously, with all the different storylines and times instead of separat dates and what the heck... I have three different lists just to keep track of everything!

Haha, I'm not complaining. ;) I love writing this too much. Have fun!

* * *

**Chapter 22: Conquest of paradise**

_London, near Globe Theater, September 21st, 11.45 pm_

It was quiet. Very quiet except for heavy breathing and a few curses. Three of them had fallen, not more, but every loss was a terrible one.

"Hou many are left?", Anderson asked.

"About half of them escaped," Heinkel reported. She sounded angry. "The Nazis are fierce." She turned to the others. "Get the termite! Burn the tainted demon meat! Burn them all to ashes!" Vicky had never seen her on fire like that. It was amazing. She turned to tell Lady Hellsing she was now in Vatican custody, but she was gone. For a second, Vicky was paralyzed with a panic not even an attacking vampire army could make her feel. But then she saw the red-headed woman at the crashed car, going through the stuff on the back seat. She found a handkerchief and wiped off the blood on her face, grimacing at the pain.

Vicky hastily joined her, praying her teacher hadn't seen how she had lost track of their prisoner for a moment. If so, the paladin seemed not particularly concerned.

"Where's your shadow?", she asked instead, exchanging the clips in her guns. Caitlyn Hellsing looked up and almost bumped her head on the roof of the car. She had gotten a black coat that looked way too big for her, a small caliber gun, and a rapier. She strapped the weapons to her belt, handing Vicky the coat, who was too confused to act like a paladin should. However that might be.

"Oh, Walter? He had... things to attend to. He'll join me again soon."

Pause. So... what were they going to do? "E-, Archbishop Maxwell, he wanted me in custody, right? You know, we can make a deal. I need to get to head quarters. Millennium will attack them and my people are totally not suited to win against such an army. Can you bring me there? I'll accompany you after we've dealt with the vampires."

Pause. _What?!_ The paladins exchanged uncomfortable glances. The Chaos Girls looked at each other, then at Anderson, who seemed to be slightly lost himself. Vicky had expected the Hellsing woman to be arrogant, or resistant. Sure, she had not really a choice in the face of all these soldiers around her, but...

She looked at them. "Come on, we don't have all night." Vicky looked at her teacher, but didn't get an answer. That woman could not just give orders to Iscariot!

"Father Anderson, can't we just... uh... drag her along?" Heinkel stabbed her with her eyes and Vicky quickly lowered her head when Anderson looked at her. Did he recognize her? Oh God, he would kill her, and her teacher too. Or her teacher would kill her. She would never become a paladin.

Caitlyn seemed more amused than worried, even if she was just trying to hide a panic hovering over her all the time. "That's really not necessary. I'll come with you once we're done. It's my duty to protect innocent lives. We're on the same side, right?"

"O' course," Anderson said. "It's nae manner tae let ae lady walk these streets alone."

"WHAT?!", pretty much every other Iscariot gasped.

"Heinkel, get cars and assemble ae group tae take on these beasts. The others stay wi' me."

Lady Hellsing smiled, relieved. "Thank God. Oh, thanks." She took the coat from Vicky. What the hell had just happened? "Let's hurry." And off she went, with about a third of the paladins trailing behind her. Vicky threw a glance back and Father Anderson smiled at her.

She quickened her steps and caught up to Lady Hellsing. "Sorry for being rude," she murmured. "That your coat?"

"Walter put it in the car. It's not mine, no." She winced as a ghoul approached, but then pulled her own gun. The shot missed by an inch. Vicky put the ghoul down.

"Thanks," Lady Hellsing said. "I'm not a really good shooter." _I see that_, Vicky thought.

"You're not supposed to be here, right?"

Vicky spun. "I have the same right to fight this battle like anyone else!", she snapped.

Lady Hellsing nodded and laughed uncomfortable. "Sorry. Now I was rude. It's just, the way you flinched when Father Anderson looked at you and how the blonde woman basically stabbed you with her gaze, I figured Anderson mustn't know you are here."

"First off, the blonde woman, that's Heinkel Wolfe. She's the best paladin of Iscariot if you don't count Father Anderson. And second..." She trailed off, angry because Lady Hellsing had gotten her to talk. Why were they escorting her anyway? She was an enemy they were ordered to capture. The chief would get mad if he got wind of this. Then again, technically she was their captive, so it shouldn't be a problem. They just put out the trash on the way.

"How did you get the idea of just asking us for help? We could have as well gotten the orders to kill you."

"You are just as interested in defeating Millennium as I am. I'm aware there is a crusade coming, but as long as the civilians are out of the-" She sighed, catching not only Vicky's glance. The civilians were never left out. Or what was left of them. "The vampires would have killed me anyway if you hadn't interfered. And I can't put up such a huge fight against either them or you, right? I'm trying to protect lives, nothing more."

That logic was pretty flawless, Vicky had to admit. "Stay with the others, okay?" She hurried to catch Heinkel and Yumie. "Teacher, what are we going to do?"

"We'll drive to Hellsing mansion and look what we can do," Heinkel explained. "You stay with Lady Hellsing all the time, understand?"

Vicky glared at her. "But I want to fight!"

"You will," Yumie said. "Your task is to protect our captive. That's important, so don't screw it up."

"Heinkel, Yumie!", Nils called. "I found cars!"

It was a pick-up, a Mini, and a small transporter. They had somehow survived the attack and the fire unscathed and even the keys were still in the ignition. No signs of the passengers, no matter if living, dead, or undead. How convenient. A bit too convenient. "Stellan, you and Vicky escort Lady Hellsing. It's easier when we can see her as a target if Millennium attacks," Heinkel announced.

"So I'm bait," Caitlyn Hellsing said. Vicky shrugged her shoulders.

"They know what they do."

"Sure," Lady Hellsing mumbled. They got in the Mini and the tires screeched as the cars sped off. Caitlyn sat on the rear bench and stared out of the window. The smell of fire had sunken into her nose and her throat felt dry. She checked her phone. The screen was cracked, but it was still functioning. Shortly after midnight. Millennium had had its fair share of snacks for hours now. She wondered where Walter was, and if he was winning. It seemed impossible to her that he could lose. He had almost beaten the werewolf when he was still human, still a child. Now he was a vampire. And Mira? She was still on the Eagle, but she would find a way to come back. She surely wouldn't want to miss such a fight.

At least now the Iscariots were on their side. Her next step was to get to head quarters before Millennium did, let the professionals handle it, and save lives. So she was a prisoner? Who cared. She had known Enrico would have never given orders to kill her. That was not like him.

The cars came to an abrupt halt as the driver, Stellan, braked sharply. The others halted right behind them. The street was blocked by a tight line of vampire soldiers with their guns directed at them.

"Iskariot! Surrender Lady Hellsing or die!", the leader announced.

"Stellan, protect Lady Hellsing, would you?" Vicky jumped out of the car and joined the other paladins. The blonde man in the front turned to Caitlyn, studied her for a moment, and shrugged his shoulders. "Sit tight. The Wolf kills me if I let Vicky run around alone." He had a pleasant Scandinavian accent. Caitlyn had to think of Hamlet for some reason. He got out and merged with the others. Caitlyn sighed. "Awesome," she said aloud. "And now? My people need me." The Iscariots were good. Five minutes. They probably wouldn't need more time to win. She could wait that long.

Vicky frowned when she saw Stellan push through the crowd. He was supposed to take care of Lady Hellsing! But then the machine guns started rattling and she had no time to think about it anymore. She dashed behind a wall, bullets hitting the bricks, and returned fire. A stray bullet slashed across her cheek and she winced. "Damn it!"

Blood splashed in her face as Yumie, just a blur herself, sliced through three vampires at once. _Whoa, let's hope I won't catch anything from that_, Vicky thought. Somebody grabbed her arm and she spun. It was a young man, his clothes torn and bloody.

"Help me!", he whimpered. He was bleeding badly form the numerous bite wounds on his body. As Vicky watched, unsure what to do, he collapsed.

"God have mercy on your soul," she murmured, and put a bullet in his head.

"Du mieser...!" She turned as two bodies slammed in the wall next to her. Somehow, Hannibal had managed to overthrow a vampire with his bare hands, if only for a second. Vicky's bullet put an end to the monster's struggle and the older paladin got up, out of breath. "Thanks!" Then he drew his guns and vanished in the turmoil again.

Heinkel and Yumie were directly at the front, dodging, jumping, taking out enemies. Vicky wondered why the vampires relied so much on their weapons. They were fast enough to tear out any human's throat before he knew what was happening. They just didn't. Also, constant fire was incredibly ineffective. She saw her chance and ran across the street, avoiding the bullets like her teacher had taught her and firing at the vampires. Hey, this was going pretty well. Her teacher would finally recognize she had enough skills to fight here. Maybe she might even be proud of- Somebody grabbed her throat and she was flung into a wall. A vampire grinned at her with bloody teeth.

"Vhat is a little girl like you doing here, playing vith ze big kids?"

Vicky wrapped her legs around his arm and pulled down. He might be strong, but he didn't expect an attack. The arm broke with a loud crack and the vampire gasped, more in surprise than pain. At least he let go. Vicky crashed to the ground, stars exploding in front of her eyes. The vampire held her down, wanting to dig his fangs into her throat. Her fingers brushed her gun, but she couldn't quite grab it. The teeth came dangerously close to her throat. Its breath was hot and stank of blood.

_I'm not gonna be a monster!_ She managed to grab her gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet only pierced the vampire's torso, not close enough to the heart, but it threw him back a bit.

"Little bitch! You shouldn't mess vith ze adults!" Then a bullet took his head off. Vicky got to her feet and brushed dust off her coat. Her legs were shaking. She rubbed her neck, just to be sure.

"You shouldn't mess with the Vatican, abomination!", she replied with all dignity you could have when your heart was hammering like the cylinder of a sports car engine. Her head was still swimming, but that vanished when she picked up her second gun and checked on enemies while she reloaded. The others were still busy, and nobody paid attention to her. Maybe she should check on Lady Hellsing. That was her job after all.

She was in a somewhat secluded spot off the main street. She needed to peek around the corner to see what was happening. The paladins had formed a line to return fire. Vicky frowned. That weren't all of them. Impossible that they had been decimated like that, right? She couldn't see her teacher either.

Whatever. She was a paladin like everybody else, so she stood in one black front with all of them, refusing to look around and seem nervous. There was a pause. The vampires, still at least three dozen, had formed their own line, machine guns ready just as the paladins were ready. They looked at each other, the paladins emotionless, the vampires with wide, bloody grins. "Vill you surrender?", the leader asked.

"Never," Vicky said in a reflex, all alone, and loudly. Pretty much everybody turned to look at her. She felt her face flush and covered it by trying to act like a leader.

"We are the soldiers of Judas Iscariot. We are the paladins of the Vatican, protecting the true faith from ungodly creatures like you. And you actually expect us to surrender?"

The vampires broke into laughter. "Did you hear zat? Vhat a nice little speech by ze youngest and most vulnerable of zem all!" The vampire's head exploded. There was another pause, when the enemy was unsure what just had happened. Vicky had seen the muzzle flash from the roof on the right, and raised her guns. Screw it, if she was already playing the leader, she could do it right. She started firing, so the vampires would look at her and not see the ambush.

The three or four sniper rifles took out the one or other vampire, but the enemies were too busy with the other paladins to notice. Vicky ducked under a blow that would have taken her head off and pressed the muzzle under the vampire's chin before pulling the trigger. Something was not right.

Somebody pushed her and she landed on her knees, almost losing the guns. A vampire tripped over her, kicking her ribs in the process. Vicky gasped and tried to get up. If she was to die here, she sure as hell wouldn't be trampled to death. She saw something roll over the ground with a metallic clatter even audible over the fighting. _Shit._

"Grenade!", she shrieked at the top of her lungs and dived behind a wall. There was a deafening explosion and rubble rained down on her. Every sane person would have stayed under cover and assessed the situation. That was how the police and all special forces did it. For a second, utter and complete silence reigned as everybody recovered from the explosion. If they had made it out at all, that was. Vicky had a really bad feeling. She rolled over the ground to the next cover, avoiding the vampire jumping at her by chance and bringing her weapons up. The air stank even more than before.

She pulled the trigger three times and then dashed through the crowd. She could see some had fallen victim to the trap, but not only the fighters of Iscariot. Occasionally, there was a shot from above. And then it was already over. The last vampires fled to join their other troops, dragging the wounded with them. It weren't many. Iscariot didn't leave things unfinished.

The remaining paladins gathered, now joined by the snipers, and Yumie who had whirled through the chaos all the time, deflecting bullets with her katana or simply dodging them. It was the first time Vicky had seen her in action and it was just as impressive as everyone had described it as.

A hand pressed down and ruffled her hair. "You were supposed to watch Lady Hellsing," Heinkel hissed.

"I left Stellan with her," Vicky replied defiantly.

"How many are left?", Yumie asked.

"We lost four paladins, Hannibal, Luca, Sören, and Stellan." Vicky felt her face grow ashen. Stellan was dead? Then what about their captive? She wanted to run to the car, but Heinkel grabbed her arm. Her green eyes were icy with anger.

"You stay with me from now on," she said sharply. "And no single-handed attempts anymore." Vicky nodded miserably. "Yes, teacher." She had already been mad, Vicky was still mad at her teacher, not even because of the slap, she had already forgiven that. But what hurt most was the disappointment she saw. She just wanted to be helpful, a warrior like her. But nobody seemed to see what she could do. Nobody was on her side. Maybe never had been.

They committed the bodies to the flames, friends and foes alike, then got back to the cars. Heinkel and Yumie joined Vicky in the Mini. The seats were empty. At some point during the fight, Caitlyn had packed her stuff and run off. Vicky shrank a bit more into her seat, although her teacher didn't even say anything. "Lady Hellsing is on her own again. She's probably on her way to head quarters. We'll check there first," Heinkel said into the radio.

"Are you sure she will make it across the city on her own?", Angelo asked.

"I wouldn't put it past her. I'm not sure why she didn't take the car either. Be on the lookout, we meet at Hellsing mansion."

"Do you have a map?", somebody, Vicky couldn't place the voice, asked.

"Something along that line," Yumie said, already typing into her phone. The perks of modern technology. Speaking of which, Vicky cursed herself for not getting a headset of her own. She could have saved a few lives if everybody had heard her.

"Nice speech," Yumie told her out of the blue. "That was pretty brave, playing the bait like that." Vicky winced, but her teacher didn't even look at her.

"Thanks. I... just wanted to give you a bit more time."  
"It was stupid," Heinkel said, swerving around a ghoul. This small car was not made for breaking through anything. The others took care of that. "If they're stupid enough, they might think you're one of our leaders."

"Oh, don't be so mean!", Yumie interrupted. "She did well. What are you two bitching at each other about anyway?!"

"We're not-"

"Uh... Heinkel, Yumie, you know we can hear you, right?", Angelo's voice came from the radio. The rest of the drive through this fallen city was covered in awkward silence. The airships were still threatening overhead, but on the outskirts, it almost seemed normal. There were small damages, but not as bad as in the inner city. And everything was deserted. Not even a ghoul was to be seen. It looked like in a post-apocalyptic movie. Maybe, in a few years, somebody would make just that, called The Battle of London, or some more epic title. The only question was, would the Iscariot organization be the bad guys? Or the heroes?

Hellsing mansion had a wide park around it, and a driveway stretching into eternity. But the zeppelin over it was easy to spot. The mansion was under attack. No.

It had already fallen.

* * *

_Cape Gris-Nez, September 21st, 2016, midnight_

"Lisa, there you are. Look." She joined Enrico at the top of the cliff. The horizon was lighted by red and orange, topped with black smoke. "Look how it burns." She nodded slowly, not daring to look at him, but she could hear the smile. He didn't seem to notice his slight accent either, another indicator how excited he was. She winced when he laid his hand on the small of her back. Enrico didn't seem to notice. "Il purgatorio. Meraviglioso."

"Sir?" That was Bernard. "The Iscariot organization and Anderson have captured Lady Hellsing. They engaged the Last Battalion in the course of that task and split up. It seems like one part has set out to fight Millennium at Hellsing headquarters."

"What are they up to?", Lisa asked, confused.

"I suppose Caitlyn had the nerve to ask for their assistance," Enrico answered. He sounded amused. Lisa dared to turn her head. She didn't like that grin. It scared her. "It would fit her, being so dewy-eyed. Whatever. Where is she now?"

There was a short discussion. Enrico didn't turn around, but Lisa did. What were they on about? She didn't trust the other Section leaders. Makube hadn't bothered to show up again, probably still licking his wounds from the defeat everybody was already talking about. But the others were just as corrupt and dangerous, as far as Lisa was concerned.

"Uh... It seems like she could flee while Iscariot was busy fighting off a troop of Millennium's soldiers. There were seven dead in total among the paladins," some other priest Lisa didn't know said. There was a brief silence. _Looks great for our organization, doesn't it?_

Enrico sighed. "They know their primary objective is to capture her. Don't engage Millennium more than necessary."

"London is in ruins," Finch said with a grin. He had a soft voice, almost hypnotic. There. No wonder Enrico was flipping out if everybody here was a psychopath. "Since the attack the conflagration didn't stop. Never has the capital of the heathen empire known such fear. The number of dead is beyond estimation. And as their tally increases, so do the ranks of the undead."

"Somebody warned them," the dragon said. "They started to evacuate shortly before the attack began. It was only a few minutes, but still."

Lisa clenched her fists in what she hoped looked like anger. "Could the traitor be in our ranks?"

The Section leaders looked at her like they noticed her for the first time, although she had not been talking to them. Enrico still hadn't turned around. He was watching the English coast and London, lit by flames, and seemed as happy as he could be. The dragon slowly, almost invisibly, shook his head, a regretful expression on his face. A moment later, it was gone. Maybe she had just imagined it.

"God has banished them," Enrico said. "How they've clung to their heresy on this Babylon on the Thames. It serves them right."

"Indeed it does", Finch said. They laughed. Lisa turned back to the red sky, so they wouldn't see how angry she was. These bastards! None of this was right. Mass murder was not God's work. She wanted to tell her brother, make him see reason, but she couldn't. Not here. If she started a fight with him in front of everybody, maybe... Maybe she would lose the last bit of connection they shared, a connection she had never expected to become so fragile.

"What about America?"

"Chaos," Bernard reported. "The White House is burning even now. It seems like a presidential aid turned into a vampire during a cabinet meeting. Fourteen people were slaughtered, including the president himself."

"Sounds about right," Enrico said softly. What about Canada? Wouldn't he ask about that? Sure, the government was quite a bit away from Richmond, but...

"Our American bishops await orders."

"They strike only if the vampirism spreads. Otherwise, we will not get involved," Enrico decided. Lisa could only stare at him. What? WHAT? He just wanted to leave them to themselves?

"Enrico..." He raised a hand and Lisa hesitated. But he hadn't even tried to silence her. He hadn't heard her. Lisa was not even sure anymore if she had spoken aloud.

"Let the world's policeman tend to his own house for a change. And while they are distracted..." Lisa spun, forcing Enrico to let go of her. Metallic footsteps approached, organized, in perfect unison. Chrk, chrk, chrk. Metal on grass. Armors.

"Yes, Sir," Finch said. "I thought the Americans would react to what is going on here. This is unusual."

"It is no matter. So long as they stay out of our way. Britain, Hellsing, and Vladimira are my only concerns. The Vatican is content to let the Major be since they were bedfellows since the last war." Lisa's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding? You said yourself this partnership was a disgrace, you can't -"

"Lisa, please don't interrupt," Enrico cut her off. A grin spread on his face and he clenched his fist.

"I am not so forgiving!", he exclaimed. "He and his kin will feel a crusader's wrath. On this night, we reclaim Britain from monsters and pagans," he took a step forward and spread his arm wide, making Lisa stumble back, "for the glory of our mighty God!"

She wanted to run to him, shake him and tell him what madness this was, that he had to come back to his senses. A hand weighed heavy on her shoulder. The dragon shook his head. She turned around and was unsure if she should be scared or amazed by the endless ranks of white and red armored knights. Every one had an automatic cannon, a white triangular hood, and a red cross on their uniform. _Are you freaking kidding me?_

"I kill the faithless and demonic," Enrico said, and his voice didn't sound like it ever had. It was an inhuman growl, more fitting to a monster than her brother. "Just like you have taught me, Father!" Lisa clenched her fists and closed her eyes for a second. _God. Make this stop. You cannot want this. Oh Enrico..._

"From the Order of the Sword of Corlante, I pledge onto thee three hundred and forty souls!", a man with a blue sword-shaped cross instead of an eye slit and with an Italian accent announced.

"From the Order of Calatrava la Nueva, I pledge one hundred and eighteen souls unto thee," the man with a typical crusader's visor and a Spanish accent announced.

The third had a cross on the forehead of the hood and a bird's mask. He spoke with a slow Italian accent. "The Order of Santo Stefano di Toscana pledges two hundred fifty seven souls onto thee."

"And from the order of Malta, two thousand four hundred fifty-seven souls."

Lisa turned back to her brother and felt her insides turn to ice. Enrico had his hands behind his back, staring out at the British channel with a wide, evil grin. That was the only appropriate description. His green eyes seemed to be glowing. He laughed softly, then turned around and walked through the middle of the Section leaders to face his crusaders. The four leaders stood at the front. Enrico looked them over with a content smile, not like he used to, but at least not as scary as before. Lisa couldn't have moved, even if the dragon would have let her go.

One row after the other, the crusaders bowed down to Enrico. The four leaders knelt down last.

"The Holy Father has ordered us here. He has promoted you in absentia to the rank of archbishop, as befits your task." Enrico grinned. "Congratulations, Your Grace," the knight said. "We, the faithful here assembled, form the knights of the Ninth Crusade. We are yours to command, Archbishop Maxwell." The leader of the Knights of Malta pulled out a red sash woven with golden ornaments and offered it to Enrico. "Deploy us as you will."

Enrico looked at him with a content, greedy smile, only superficially trying to seem humble and dignified. He grabbed the sash and draped it over his shoulders. "AMEN!" The dragon's hand tightened on Lisa's shoulder. In her panic the weirdest thought she had was why Enrico didn't even bother to put the ponytail over the sash. Normally he didn't like scarves over his hair. Lisa prayed.

"I accept this with all of my being!" He turned to the crusaders.

_Dear God, I'm not asking much. Forgive him. He is not himself. I will take care of the rest._

"Your target is London!", Enrico exclaimed, his voice almost a snarl. "Destroy it! Let this new era of Catholic might, this reconquista, now begin!" The crusaders straightened up.

"Amen! Amen! Amen!", they repeated, over and over, while Enrico watched them, perfectly satisfied with this sight. Everybody joined in except for the new Archbishop and Lisa. She was too frozen to say anything, and if not, 'Amen' would have not been her choice. The crusaders turned around like one and began to walk to the helicopters, exclaiming "Amen" over and over. Enrico started to laugh. Finch, Bernard and the dragon turned around, confused.

"To think that a bastard, despised and spat upon by polite society, would be made an archbishop, and given an army." He laughed again. Lisa was speechless. That was what this was all about? She managed to shake off the dragon and grabbed her brother's arm. "What the hell are you talking about?", she hissed. "What does that have to do with anything? What about our parents?" For a moment she almost thought the wild arrogance and ecstasy of power in his eyes cleared.

"Director!" A young blond boy, one of the trainees from the orphanage, pushed his way through the adults, his face pale and scared, clutching a small pile of papers.

Enrico turned around, annoyed. "Well, what is it?"

"Look." He handed Enrico the stack of which turned out to be photographs. "It's that carrier. The British one."

He leafed through the photos. "These coordinates... it's moving again? That's absurd!"

"After all the damage it took? That's impossible!", Finch snapped. Without a word, Lisa took the photos from Enrico's hands and handed them over. Finch and Bernard almost bumped their heads over them, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Director, it's speed is just a few knots, but this ship is definitely heading..." The boy hesitated. "To London." So Vladimira the vampire queen was on her way to return to her master.  
"Alucard is coming," Finch said nervously.

Enrico grinned and walked back to the edge of the cliff. The helicopters were already boarded, the engines warming up with a howl. "Let her come. Hellsing, Millennium, and Vladimira alike will perish at our feet. The Lord will use us as a sword and lay their forces into dust. Now go. Our time as the tool of God's holy wrath is begun!" His hand cut through the air, down, signaling the begin of the Ninth Crusade. With a roar of engines, the first helicopters started, heading over them for the other side of the channel. Enrico turned around and walked to the glass cube that would protect him while he gave orders from up high.

Lisa wanted to follow him, but the dragon blocked her way. "It would be best if you stay here," the giant man said.

Lisa broke free. If she was scared of something now, it was surely not him. "Don't tell me what is best for me! I'm going with him. He needs me."

The dragon slowly shook his head. His dark eyes were full of pity. "You will only see carnage and horror. It is already too late. Spare yourself this torture. You cannot save him anymore."

"Like hell I can! Even if it's to late, it's my duty. I won't let him down!"

"Duty?", the dragon asked softly. "What duty? Why would you hurt yourself like that?"

"Because we're family." She cut him off before he could say anything. "I don't expect you to understand. Family doesn't end with blood. Now leave me alone."

The dragon didn't try to stop her, but she heard several chuckles and confused questions as she ran past the other clerics. Of course, they didn't risk their lives. They also weren't honored with a promotion, so that came around, presumably. She didn't really know how this cube worked, but she managed to jump on the truck and bumped into her brother just before it was sealed.

For the first time in several minutes, he seemed to really notice her. "What are you doing here?", he snapped. "I said you stay here with the others!"

"Screw that! I'm not gonna let you go alone." Without being asked to, she pulled his ponytail out under the sash and arranged everything correctly.

Enrico rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Mum. Lisa, you're afraid of heights. We're going to fly the whole night in a glass cube."

"I'm good," she said with clenched teeth. She had to shout to be heard over the rotors of the starting helicopters. "Try to stop me." Enrico sighed and waved a hand. The cube was sealed.

"Try not to stand in the way." They lifted off the ground and Enrico took his place at the front, over his lectern, framed by dozens of microphones. She saw the on/off button at the edge of the tabletop. So far, they were shut off. Under the table Lisa discovered the sword Yumie had brought back from the US weeks ago. So that was his big surprise?

She felt a bit dizzy when she looked down at the stormy black water under them, but it was not as bad as she had expected. The burning London was coming closer quickly.

"Rico..." Her throat felt tight. He leaned against the lectern and grinned at her.

"Isn't it a wonderful night?", he asked. "The Vatican will rebuild Catholic Britannica. And we will be on top, we Iscariots. You and me." He spread out his arms. Lisa accepted the invitation and hugged him, leaning her head against his shoulder as they saw London approach. "Always and forever."

He said something else, but she didn't hear it. The only thing she could think about was if the dragon was right. If her brother as she knew him was already gone or if she could still save him.

"Oh yes. Always and forever," she repeated quietly. "Until the end."

* * *

_London, Stamford Street, September 22nd, 0.30 am_

Caitlyn pressed herself into a dark hallway as vampires ran past her. Maybe she just should have stayed with the Iscariots. They would assume she would go to Hellsing mansion and she would, if she found an opportunity. But most bridges were already destroyed and alone by foot she would need an eternity, if she made it at all. At least the fires were dying down by now. Hopefully, Iscariot would reach the mansion in time. She on the other hand needed to find somewhere to issue orders from, take care the people were evacuating or at least hiding, until the reinforcement arrived. Enrico would be determined to bring this disgusting Major down. She would join him. Once Walter and Mira were back, nothing could go wrong anymore.

She felt violently sick from all the carnage. Men, women, children, slaughtered without a difference. At first she had tried to take out all the ghouls she found, but she just couldn't. She was shaking too badly, she was tired and in shock. She could have prevented that. Hell, Britain could have prevented that! But no, they didn't even give out a warning and instructions. Eight million people lived in the city, not counting the numerous tourists. Most of them were already dead.

She shrieked when a ghoul tried to grab her and beheaded it with her rapier. So Mira's fencing lessons had not been for nothing. Caitlyn shoved up her sleeves. The coat was too big for her, but she didn't want to abandon it and carrying it around over her arm was no option either.

The cell phone towers had probably not survived the attack, as she couldn't get a signal.

"What are you doing out there?" She gasped and almost stabbed an elderly man peeking from a doorway further in. "Get in, before the monsters do." Without waiting for her answer, he grabbed her and dragged her inside. Then he barricaded the door again. Not that any of it would really help against a vampire trying to get in. The small kitchen she was standing in was damp and hot.

At the table sat a young woman, probably the man's daughter, reading a story to her child. The girl could not be older than four and had wild blonde hair. She had been crying, just like her mother.

"Daddy?", she asked and looked up, but sagged when she saw Caitlyn instead of her father.

"Dad, who is that?", the woman asked warily. "Didn't we say we don't let anyone in?"

"Karen, she was all alone out there." The next moment, Caitlyn got water in the face and the old man pressed something to her forehead. She blinked and wiped her face with a handkerchief he gave her. "See, she's not a vampire."

Karen shrugged her shoulders, not convinced. "Who are you?"

"Caitlyn Morris," she introduced herself. "Sorry for just appearing here, I... was on my way across town."

"With all these monsters on the street?", Karen's father asked. He looked her up and down, the bruises on her face, the too big coat, the rapier and the gun. "Are you with the military?"

"Kind of. Are you three alone?"

The little girl tugged at Karen's sleeve. "Mommy, is she nice?" She slid off her mother's lap and walked over to Caitlyn. The woman jumped to her feet and swooped the child up before she reached Caitlyn, scowling. "I don't know, darling."

"Listen, I'm not here to... whatever. You need to lay low, so Millennium doesn't notice you." A second later, there was a knife at her throat. The old man hastily pressed his granddaughter's face to his body and carried her out of the room. "It's okay, dear. Mommy's with you in a second."

"Millennium? You knew about this?", Karen hissed.

Caitlyn dropped her rapier. "Whoa. No, we didn't know they would attack London. It... it was all such a mess." For a moment, she felt like crying. _Does honor matter more than a life? Eight million lives? Why does it feel like all of this is my fault?_

"Karen, listen, I know we're at war right now."

"And you want to tell me it's going to be alright?", Karen asked with a shrill laugh.

Caitlyn looked into her wild brown eyes. "No. It's not going to be alright. A lot of people have died, because the government made mistakes, and all organizations made mistakes, and because the Major is a crazy bastard who wants to kill us all. But we won't let him. Not because of honor or duty to this country, but because no more innocents should die. War is wrong, that's what I'm saying. And it will end tonight."

Karen stared at her, then let go with a helpless laugh. "Lovely. You talk like you know about this. Are you with the Lords in their guidance quarters outside?"

"No. I'm with the Hellsing organization."

"Never heard of it."

"I know. Doesn't matter. You people have CB? I need to talk to head quarters."

"Out back. If you know so much, what do we do against these..."

"Vampires," Caitlyn said. That was all they needed to know. Better not confuse them. "Holy water and garlic are mildly effective, as you already know, but if you want to kill them, just shoot or impale them. Take out the head or the heart and they're dead for good. Silver is most effective."

"I see. Let's go to the CB." Caitlyn picked up her rapier and Karen led her into a back room only lit by candles. The old man was rocking the little girl on his knees. She ran to her mother and hugged her tightly until Karen picked her up.

"What's her name?", Caitlyn asked.

"Peggy," the little girl said. "And I'm... uh..." She showed her fingers. "Four."

Caitlyn smiled. "A big girl already, I see. You take care of your Mommy, right?" The girl nodded with enthusiasm. It was nice to see she was not scared.

Peggy's grandfather showed Caitlyn an ancient radio that looked self-made. She put on the headphones and tried the regulators. She had learned to use a CB radio after she was made head of Hellsing, but since then she had not needed any of that knowledge. On all accessible wave lengths was confusion, terror, and chaos. On some the Round Table had issued an order for everyone to stay inside if they could, seek shelter, and not engage in battle. Somebody had recorded Sir Penwood message and put it on repeat. Caitlyn gulped when she heard his voice again.

But then she suddenly heard a voice that seemed just as familiar. Pip Bernadotte.

"Pip! Captain Bernadotte, it's Caitlyn! Can you hear me?"

The radio crackled so hard that her ears hurt, but then there was Pip Bernadotte's voice. "Lady 'ellsing? Zank God, we already zought somezing might 'ave 'appened to you. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, what about you? Millennium is on their way to you."

"Are zey? We are somewhat bored around 'ere. Seras! It's Lady 'ellsing. She's fine."

"One of their zeppelins is headed for the HQ. The Iscariot organization is on their way too. The group is led by a blonde woman named Heinkel Wolfe. They'll help you against Millennium, but you need to bring that zeppelin down first."

There was an explosion and the line cracked loudly. Caitlyn almost ripped off the headphones. Her ears were tingling after the noise. "Captain Bernadotte?"

She heard him cough. "Zere zey are. Au revoir, boss. See you after zis is over, I 'ope." Then the connection broke. Caitlyn took off the headphones and leaned back. Okay, that was not so bad, right? They were warned, they would work with Iscariot and defeat Millennium. Her ears hurt and she felt a bit dizzy.

The old man gave her a cup of water. "We stored some," he said. Caitlyn only realized how thirsty she was when the water touched her lips. She drank the cup in one big gulp. "Thank you." The man filled it again and she drank it too, slower this time. It was a blessing after so many hours.

"So, you're not some random agent of this Hellsing thing," Karen said. She looked Caitlyn over again, then sat down her daughter. "Go with Grandpa, love, alright?" The girl nodded and followed her grandfather.

Karen crossed her arms. "You're their commander, huh? That gun is loaded with silver, I bet."

"Can you shoot?", Caitlyn asked.

Karen blinked. "Yeah. Sure."

"Good." Caitlyn opened the straps holding the holster. "Then I hope you're better than me at it." She put the gun on the table. "Protect your daughter. I got to go. Thanks for letting me use the CB." She turned to go and had a cold hard rectangle press into her neck. Not that she was particularly surprised. She had seen Karen's plan from the beginning, but her men were more important.

"That rapier looks pretty valuable. Don't you think you should leave it here as a thanks for our hospitality?"

"You want to send me out there unarmed?"

"I don't give a shit if you get eaten by those beasts. You military commanders are all the same! You sent my husband to his death without as much as "Sorry". He was a pilot, you know?" She suppressed a sob. "He promised to come home for Peggy's birthday."

Caitlyn realized who she was talking to. "Is your name Ortiz?"

Karen pressed the gun down harder. "How do you know that?"

"Your husband piloted one of the drones we sent for the HMS Eagle. He was on his way to you when... when the attack began."

"Of course. And whose fault is this mess? Yours! Yours and the other Lords! What do you care about us?"

"More than you think." Caitlyn opened the strap of the rapier and it clattered to the floor. "I really hope you make it. Take care of your daughter and yourself. She'll need a mother. Family's all you have."

"Get out!" Karen opened the door and pushed Caitlyn outside. She stumbled into the wall. "I really hope royal filth like you gets eaten, so this cursed country can catch up to today." Karen slammed the door and barricaded it again. Caitlyn leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Miss Evangeline had been right. The world was bad and scared people were the worst of all. In the end, everybody only thought of himself.

Now then. Somewhere in this chaos there would be weapons. She would have been more comfortable with her own, but that was no option. All she had was Sir Arthur's coat and her wits. That should be enough. Maybe the rest of Iscariot would pick her up again.

A bright light came down from the sky. Caitlyn stepped out of the doorway and stared up at the pyrotechnics creating the shape of a winged being. Fire rained down, a colossal, bright golden figure in the dirty night sky.

There was a long, astounded pause. Everywhere the people that had not yet fallen victim to Millennium or the ghouls came from their hideouts and stared up at the figure. Even the vampires had stopped. _That's no angel._

A deep, actually quite pleasant voice echoed over the city. The sound quality was a lot better than the Major's. _Finally. About time._ She could hear the sizzling of the pyrotechnics, the sound of helicopters and above that the deep voice with now a bit more than a hint of an Italian accent while reciting Latin.

"Christus vincet, Christus regnabit, Christus, Christus imperat. Silvester quartus, summo pontifici et universalis papa, pax, vita et salus perpetua."

Now she could see all the helicopter with their strong spotlights, a whole swarm of buzzing insects. Enrico stood in a glass cube on a truck that hung from a helicopter. Well that had to be quite the comfortable spot. She didn't speak Latin, but recognized the name of the current Pope, Silvester IV., and wondered why it amused her that Enrico was obviously unable to pronounce a Latin C and G correctly. He just couldn't hide being Italian. She couldn't wait to talk to him. But that might have to wait until after the battle. Unless she let herself get captured again.

"Et emni clero ei commisso pax, vita et salus perpetua."

"Angels!" A woman cried. She clung to her crucifix. "It's angels!"

"How right you are!", Enrico's voice echoed over the speaker system. Caitlyn froze. Shouldn't she have seen this coming, like she should have expected Millennium's attack?

_Pride went before, ambition follows him._ He was unstable. She had known it on that first day in the museum and then again at the conference. Sympathy always got the better of you, didn't it?

"We have come for you! We are the righteous soldiers of the angel of death! And tonight the inquisition will render its judgment!" More fiery angels appeared in the sky. It would be beautiful if she didn't know what it meant. Enrico Maxwell's crusade had arrived in London. "England is guilty! The heathens are guilty! You are all now sentenced to your DEATH!"

A collective gasp went through the crowds that had gathered on the streets in hope of salvation, but nobody thought of running away or hiding.

"Death, death, death, DEATH!", Maxwell exclaimed joyfully. He changed to a smug voice. "I can offer you my pity, but forgiveness? NEVER! Now prepare to be purged from the Earth! Mowed down like grass! Crushed like bugs!" He broke into a horrible, maniacal laughter.

Caitlyn stared up at the crusaders, the man she had thought to be her ally, the man she might have fallen in love with just a little. How could she have been that delusional?

_But love is blind, and lovers cannot see._ This war was everybody against Hellsing. She had set her cards on the person who manipulated her best. She was barely more than a child, somebody still trying to find his place in the world, somebody who wanted nothing more than to be loved. And now all the innocents would have to pay for her mistake.

* * *

Du mieser = You damned (mies literally means bad colloquially)

Il purgatorio = purgatory / meraviglioso = wonderful.

Enrico's Latin speech in English (see manga vol 7): Christ will win, Christ will rule, Christ, Christ reigns supreme, to Sylvester IV., most high bishop and pope of the entire world be eternal peace, life, and salvation. And to all of those clergy devoted to him, be eternal peace life, and salvation.

In the manga, it was John Paul II, but since he died in 2005 I had to change that. As I admire the current Pope Francis (though I'm neither Catholic nor religious) and that would be completely unlike him, I didn't want to take him for that role. So I just invented a new Pope. Historically, there was a Sylvester IV., but he was an antipope from 1105 to 1011. Since he wasn't a 'real' pope I figured it was okay to take that name. The original Sylvester was the guy associated with the Donation of Constantine, so the reclamation of Britain kinda fit into the whole thing. I'm not gonna explain everything here, you can google that. (If I'm making sense that's good, if not I'm not surprised either.)

catsvsdogscatswin: First off, thanks for the review again. And second, there you have Enrico being a complete bastard. Was fun writing that. ^^

I was always somewhat irrtated by the fact he doesn't even put his ponytail over the sash. I'd go mad. And can you really say "our time IS begun" ? Because that's what he says. I'm not a native speaker and that somewhat confuses me.


	24. The Dogs of War

Alright, I know there was an update yesterday, and this is kind of out of character for me but I just felt like uploading. (I totally want you guys to know what happens next, I'm so excited about it xD) So, new chapter. And hey, it is Monday! So no worries there. Yay!

I just realized you could call the entire Hellsing series (and my story) "Fun with accents". Dang, so many different countries xD (I enjoy writiing them, but especially Anderson is incredibly hard.)

Thanks to kinniget &amp; catsvsdogscatswin for the reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 23: The Dogs of War**

_Hellsing mansion, outside London, September 22nd, 0.45 am_

A rocket shattered the right edge of the roof. Plaster rained down on the men (and one woman).

"Some of zeir troops are descending from ze zeppelin!", Edouard announced. He ducked when another rocket hit the mansion right over their heads. He looked through the binoculars again and his face went even more ashen than before. "Zey're approaching! Mon dieu, zey're fast!"

"What are these guys?", Pete asked. His voice was trembling. Pip rolled his eyes and waved his hand at Seras. He had been skeptical about Pete to begin with. The man was a coward. But they had given him a chance like they gave everybody a chance.

The Captain and his fiance watched the men on the screens in the command center.

"Alright everyone," Pip announced. "Ze time to pee yourselves is over! Get to work!"

"YES SIR!" The men split up, to their positions.

The first vampires reached the yard in front of the mansion. About five hundred feet separated them from the entrance. Then the ground beyond the feet of the first vampire blew up. He was ripped to pieces right there. Pip lit a cigarette and smiled. The group stopped, looked around in panic.

"Zey're standing still. Detonate."

"Silver bullets on C4. What the hell are we doing here?", Seras murmured. Her fiance stroked her cheek. "You heard Lady Hellsing. Hell, you saw what zat kid could do."

"Don't let him hear that," she joked weakly. Well, he was a bit creepy. But she would be more than glad to have him here now. Or Lady Mira, for that matter.

"Zey're monsters," Pip said, like he wanted to confirm her thoughts. "Zey 'ave superhuman strength and reflexes. Zey're animals. We fire at zem, an zey rip your 'ead off before you even know you missed. Face to face, we don't stand a chance. But we Geese 'ave our way of fighting, don't we?"

Seras smiled. "Thanks for the summary, Captain." The vampires at the front were ripped to pieces right on the spot and the silver bullets got most of them. The others stopped dead and dragged their wounded comrades out of the mine field. Then the Geese in the upper-floor windows began to shoot at them with automatic grenade launchers. The vampires retreated and the first victory shouts went through the house.

"Now, ladies, don't be preposterous. We barely scared them. Zey'll come back."

"I hope Lady Caitlyn will be alright," Seras said. She just couldn't forget how their supposed leader seemed to have no idea whatsoever how to prepare for whatever was coming their way. Walter had led the preparations, as he had showed them around the premises in the beginning, and supplied them with everything they needed. What did London look like right now? She wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

"She's got ze vampire boy with 'er," Pip tried to calm her. The room shook. "Ah, merde. Francesco, 'ow many are zere?"

"A shitload. No idea. We more or less trapped them behind those hills, but-" There was an explosion and a scream, then silence.

"Francesco? Fils de pute!" Pip frantically searched for a fitting surveillance camera. "Status report!"

"Pip, look." Seras' voice almost broke. One of the outside cams was aimed right at Hellsing mansion. A rocket had ripped a big hole in the main building, right where the men had been positioned to hold back the ground troops of the Nazis.

"How long can we hold out?", Seras asked quietly.

Pip leaned back, shut off the radio and pulled her on his lap. "I really 'ave no idea, ma chére. Without zat airship we might 'ave a chance. But as long as zey keep striking us wi' zose missiles? A few minutes, top." They just hugged for a long time, while more rockets tore Hellsing mansion to pieces. Their men had their orders, but everybody (of those who were still left) knew it was too late. Hell, they had never had a chance to begin with. That damn airship.

Seras jumped to her feet. "Wait here. I've got an idea."

"Where are you going?"

"Walter said something about an experimental defense system we could use."

Pip stood up and followed her. "I'm coming with you." She stopped him in the door.

"Don't be silly. The others need their orders. Besides, if we're lucky Iscariot arrives and helps us out."

"Seras, zey're Catholic _assassins_. Are you sure we can trust zem? You saw zeir leader at ze conference."

"Lady Caitlyn said it was okay."

"Lady Caitlyn was barmy in love, ma chére. Are you sure she can 'andle zis?"

Seras didn't look at him. "Can we?" He didn't answer. "I have to check on this. I love you." They kissed and she pressed her face into his jacket while Pip rested his chin on her head for a moment. Seras pulled away and raised her hand, almost like an order. "You see this?", she asked. "This ring means we're gonna marry. I wanted Lady Caitlyn as my bridesmaid. Maybe even Mira. I'm not going to die beforehand and you won't either. Comprends?!"

He stared at her and then laughed. "Bien sure, ma chérie. Stay safe." She kissed him again and then ran along the corridor. Most of the Wild Geese were out front, where the enemy was, and only a few took care there was nobody sneaking up the back door.

"All clear on this side?", she called to Stefan, standing on the window with binoculars, but didn't stop. The mansion was freakishly large, it took an eternity to get everywhere. And Caitlyn was more or less alone except for the two vampires. You had to be a bit crazy to stand that.

"Yeah. Where are you going?"

"Upstairs. I need to check on something."

"I'm not sure if-", Stefan called, but she had already reached the stairs and sprinted upwards. The building shook again. Pip was right: Iscariot was dangerous. The Wild Geese were a mixed group, it didn't matter which religion you practiced or from where you came, what you had been and done before. Everything that counted was how skilled you were. If you fit into the team and could protect your comrades. But Iscariot was different. You only got in with one hell of a lot of skills, but the main criteria was fanaticism. Lady Caitlyn might trust in them. Seras didn't. If she hadn't talked Pip into this, they'd probably sit in some desert hole now, fighting for any possible side in a random war. But that was still a lot better than facing an army of crazy Catholics and even more crazy vampire Nazis. _If, if, if. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Get going._

She reached the roof and almost tumbled into the floor below. The rockets had ripped huge chunks out of the building. In the distance she could see the zeppelin hovering over the very edge of the vast premises belonging to Hellsing. Who the hell mowed that much lawn, anyway?

The grass was ripped to shreds in a lot of places, where rockets had missed. The men in the higher-up floors were keeping the ground troops busy with constant fire. They had sought shelter behind a group of trees, Francesco had told them before the rocket ended his life.

There was a movement in the distance. Seras squinted, but she had no binoculars and couldn't make out what they were doing. "Pip, they're up to something," she said into her radio.

"Oui. I would be surprised if not. 'ave you found what you were looking for?"

"Not yet."

"Be careful."

"You too," she murmured, distracted by an unfamiliar sight: Somebody had placed something on the roof, she couldn't see what it was. There was a blanket draped over it or some kind of milky foil. She grabbed the edge of the foil and pulled. It was heavy and she had to put in all her weight to move it. But slowly, it started to slide off. Then it got caught on something and Seras' feet were pulled out under her. Her head hit the ground and stars exploded in front of her eyes.

It took a while until she could sit up. Her head was still swimming, but her vision finally cleared to see hell. The airship had turned and cleared the horizon. London was burning. The flames licked at the sky, bright and greedy. She thought to hear the roaring all the way from the city. There were other lights too. Bright, golden lights instead of the dark orange of the fire. Seras had seen her fair share of pyrotechnics in her short career. They were good for effect, for intimidation. These were formed like winged beings. Angels. Looked like the Catholics had arrived. She could hear the typical sound of helicopters. Many helicopters.

"Pip, the Catholics are here. In London, I mean."

"Zen let's just 'ope zat Caitlyn was right about zem."

"London is in ruins," she whispered.  
"Yes, ma chérie. You know, I never liked London. It was old-fashioned. But zere were nice people. Ze little club we visisted. Ze bartender always talked shit about France, but he was nice and the beer was good. And zis old lady at ze corner shop who always gave me fish and chips without asking. Zey tasted 'orrible, but I always ate zem, just for 'er. All zese people had nothing to do with zis war. Not with 'ellsing or Millennium or zis Section 13."

"Nice little speech." Seras heard Pip gasp and the chair spin.

"Who are you?", he snapped. But there was nobody. The voice had come from the radio.

"Sir, there are intruders on the back side!", Stefan called. "We can't catch them."

"Is that how you treat all of your allies?" Seras spun, grabbing for her guns, but felt the tip of a blade on her neck and froze. The metal was coated with dried blood and shimmered a bit brighter on the edges. _Silver?_ The woman wore the dress of a nun, her black hair fell in her face. Then she lowered the weapon and grinned. "Yumie Takagi."

"A-Are you from Iscariot?", Seras stuttered. The more obvious question was: How did you get up here without being noticed?

"You tell me," she said and sheathed the sword. No, it was not even a sword, but a katana. Who were those guys? Yumie looked out over the premises to where the zeppelin was hovering. "You really got into a bit of trouble here, did you not?" She had a Welsh accent, Seras noticed. The Iscariots certainly were just as mixed as the Geese, it seemed.

"Looks like it. So... you'll help us?"

"We kind of made a deal with your boss." She shrugged. "Seriously, I don't get it. But Father Anderson decided this. We'll help you defeat those freaks." She grinned again. It looked too insane to be really comforting.

"Good. My name's Seras Victoria, by the way. Help me with this, okay?" Seras disentangled the foil and started to pull it off the – weapon? It looked like the lovechild of a grenade launcher and an old-fashioned cannon. There was a letter taped to it.

_Harkonnen II _

_30mm semi-automatic cannon _

_Maximum reach: 4000m_

_Red button is for firing two big missiles. Only for emergencies._

_Careful with the recoil. _

_~W.D._

God bless Walter Dornez. He really was one hell of a butler. Seras checked how it was fired, but it was really easy. She just needed to start it and they were ready to go. Take that damned zeppelin down. There had already been too many deaths by their rockets. The explosion would rip the vampires inside to shreds or at least burn them alive.

"Hands off." Seras didn't listen. The colossal cartridge belt was already in place. She aimed right at the zeppelin. Icy, bloody metal touched her wrists. "Hands. Off," Yumie repeated. "Or you lose them." Her voice was just as sharp as her blade.

Seras carefully pulled back her hands. "What are you doing?"

"We're not shooting down that zeppelin."

"Well, thanks." Seras blinked, then realized that voice was on the radio as well. It was a woman, but she sounded a lot darker than Yumie and was only whispering. "Would be great if you could wait with that until we're out."

"Are you Heinkel Wolfe?", Seras asked carefully. "Caitlyn told us you were coming."

"Yeah..." Pause. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, she was on a CB radio. Where are you?"

"On the airship, so don't blow it up. Yumie, you take care of those kids, right?"

"'oo are you calling kids?", Pip complained. He didn't get an answer. Because then a giant attacked the mansion. It was a muscular woman with short red hair, one side of her body full of tattoos. She raised a giant scythe. Her words were blur, the voice barely a growl. "Show me your pain!"

Pictures flashed in front of Seras' eyes. The night when she was little and her mother put her into the closet. The night that changed her life forever. How she came into the orphanage. She saw Yumie grimace and fall to her knees, then she was lost in her own horrific past.

* * *

_Tokyo, 1997_

It was cold, very cold. Yumiko shivered, but not because of the cold. She clutched the katana tightly, but it seemed to slip her grip any moment now. And then they would punish her again.

"Pay attention, musume. One day, you will have to lead this clan."

Yumiko swallowed hard and readjusted her hands. "Yes, okaa-sama."

The boy in front of her was very pale, sweaty, and crying. His father stood at the side of the room, tied up and gagged, though Yumiko did not really understand any of this yet.

"Discipline," Yumiko's mother said. "Discipline is everything. This boy has none of it. His family has none of it. Traitors are death to every family. So to protect the family we must bring death to the traitors. Do you understand, Yumiko?"

She nodded slowly. "Death to the traitors," she repeated. "To protect the family." Her mother's fingers had dug into her shoulder so hard she wanted to scream, but she had learned not to. Now the older woman let go.

"Pay close attention." At a wave of her hand, the man was dragged to the middle of the room. The little boy, he was about Yumiko's age, struggled and shouted his father's name. He was shut up with a slap that probably broke his jaw.

Yumiko's mother pulled her katana. She whirled around her own axis and cut the man right through. With a gurgling sound he stared at them. Yumiko did not look away. Looking away would make okaa-sama angry and Yumiko knew what that meant. The parts separated and crashed to the ground, spraying red liquid everywhere, but still staring. The boy howled.

Okaa-sama turned around and looked down on her daughter. "Now you."

Yumiko drew the katana and took a step forward, then hesitated. She really wished her friend was here. Yumie was never afraid. "Can... Can I go see Father when I do this?" The answer was not a slap like she had expected, but a paper thin smile.

"You can go see him right now." She held up a hand and stepped aside. "I wanted to wait with this, but well." The door slid open and another man was pushed in.

"Father!", Yumiko beamed. Her smile fell when he collapsed to his knees. He pressed one hand to his chest. Or where his hand should be. There was nothing but an even surface, white and red, from where blood seeped into his shirt.

"Hello, dear," he whispered. "Is Mommy good to you?" His eyes, dazed with pain, wandered over her small, slender body, the bare arms covered in cuts and bruises. "Obviously not."

"You had quite the nerve to come here again, Alan. I told you, kumo no musume-tachi do not allow entrance to outsiders."  
"She's my daughter," Alan managed. "It took me long enough to find you. Yumie, darling. Don't worry. We'll go back to Wales and nobody will hurt you anymore."

"She is a Daughter of the Spider. But you coming here saved us quite a bit of trouble. Masume, this is your new target. Finish him." Yumiko stared at him. She remembered vaguely, a far away land, happiness, no pain. Then she had been taken away. Her Father. She had kept a photograph of him, secretly, so okaa-sama wouldn't find it. She did in the end and burned Yumiko for it, but she knew what he looked like. She remembered his voice.

Okaa-sama's fingers closed around her arm again. It was still a bit sore from when it had been broken a while ago. Yumiko clenched her teeth. "Do it."

"Why?"

"Because a daughter kills her father. That's what we do. You can never be strong with him running after you."

"I think I can." Okaa-sama grabbed the little girl and lifted her off the ground.

"Oh, do you? Well, I tell you something: You will go into the room for a week. If you don't kill him, you will not become one of us. And you know what that means, right?"

She dropped the girl. Her knee twisted and cracked loudly. Yumiko screamed in pain. Tears blurred her sight. Why was her friend not here when she needed her?

"Discipline is everything," Okaa-sama repeated. Her katana was a thin silver line in the air. Then Alan's other hand dropped to the floor. He gasped and was only held upright by two men in the shadows. "Everything." His eyes rolled one last time, seeming to plead to his daughter for help, before the head fell off. The katana fell out of Yumiko's numb fingers, clanging on the concrete. The blow took her off her feet and smashed her into the wall.

"I should have known from the beginning. You are weak." She hit the girl again. "You have no discipline. You are a disgrace!" She grabbed her hair and dragged Yumiko to the fallen katana. "Take it and kill him!", she demanded and pointed at the boy. When the child didn't respond she shook her like a rag doll and dropped her to the floor.

Yumiko stared at the parts of her father lying on the floor. Then at her katana. Okaa-sama would kill her and she didn't care. She would not have to endure more pain, or hurt others.

_Yumiko._ She looked around. Everything hurt. The world spun. _Yumiko, it's me. Don't be scared. I will take care of it._

_\- She is stronger than you._

_No she is not. Don't worry. Father will be proud._ Yumiko felt her hand close around her katana. She closed her eyes.

_Nobody forces me to anything. I am free. The Lord is my shepherd._

* * *

"Don't worry." She wanted to struggle when the owner of the voice picked her up, but he just held her tightly, but not too tightly. "You're safe. God watches over you now, dear."

"Daddy?", she whispered. A sigh.

"No, darling. My name is Marco Renaldo. Do you remember what happened?" They were walking. She could hear sirens, but they left them behind. Yumiko looked up. The man had brown hair, glasses and a mustache. He smiled at her and suddenly she liked him.

"Yumie took care of them," she said.

"Yumie?"

"She's my friend. She talks to me sometimes."

"You have to tell me more about her. She sounds very nice." Renaldo had a sword himself, Yumiko noticed.

"Are you from kumo no musume-tachi?"

"No, dear. I'm here to bring you home."

"My father is dead," she whispered.

He sighed again. "Yes dear. But I know somebody who will take care of you. You don't need to be afraid." Yumiko stared at him, then at the street, where the rain had flooded the asphalt. She had rarely been out since she came here. Yumiko buried her face in the fabric of the strange man's coat.

_I am free._

* * *

_Hellsing mansion, September 22nd, 2016, 1 am_

Seras screamed when she woke up. Pip was standing over her, the worry in his face decreasing as her thoughts sharpened. "What happened?", she gasped. She remembered. More than she wanted to. Her parents. Their death. The faces of the attackers, their laughter. Every last detail of the scene that haunted her since her childhood. She forced herself to calm down. You got them. _The bastards got what they deserved. As a policewoman that would not have been possible. And you never would have met him._ Pip pulled her to her feet and she pressed her face to his shoulder for a moment.

"Zat wild nun woke me up. Ze vampires were putting us under some kind of spell. Ze others are still knocked out."

"The Iscariots too?"

"Except for 'er. Come on, we 'ave to do-" An explosion shook the building. The roof under their feet began to grumble, like it would fall apart at any moment. Pip and Seras quickly ran for the stairs, but the shaking stopped. The Harkonnen II still stood firm. The question was if the roof could withstand the recoil if they fired. They should have shot down the zeppelin when they had the chance. For someone who was supposed to help, the Iscariots had done remarkably little so far.

"Damn," Seras hissed. Her gaze had fallen away from the looming zeppelin onto the ground, where hundreds of knives stuck out of the soil like a swarm of weird animals come to rest in the yard. "They figured out the mines!"

"Zey must 'ave stormed ze front porch! Let's go." They sprinted down the staircase. The moon shone through the huge hole in the wall and the smell of fire and death from London was blown in their faces. The men that were left were kneeling or lying in the fetal position, groaning, some were even crying. Whatever nightmares they had, they were just as bad as Seras' visions. She stopped. "Come on, you need to wake up! It's just an illusion!" She shook Pete, who was wiggling desperately, his open eyes staring at the ceiling. "No, no! Please!", he whimpered.

Pip grabbed her arm and pulled her along. "I already tried zat. It'z no use." They ran on, through the second to the first floor, then to the stairs leading into the entrance hall. The smell of blood hit them like a hammer. It was smeared over the floor and walls. There was a head nailed to a painting, just that, with knives through his eye sockets. Seras gasped when she recognized Sergej. The group ordered to keep an eye on the entrance had been ripped to pieces. Their bodies were piled up in a bloody heap, flaps of soaked fabric, body parts unknown who they might belong to, and their useless weapons. The vampires had settled into the pile of corpses and talked in German. Seras knew rudimentary German, after having been there half a year once and tried hard to understand what they were saying.

They talked about how stupid it was that they had to wait for their leader and the rest to go on and get all the yummy prey whimpering above their heads. One said it annoyed him how boring this had turned out to be. Hellsing was by far not such a threat as they had thought. Just a bunch of whimpering kids. And the leader wasn't here either. In the meanwhile, the others got to have a large fill in Central London. That was really unfair. Somebody wondered why they didn't get any more instructions from the zeppelin.

"Because Zorin is not on ze zeppelin, idiot!", another one replied in English.

The first vampire laughed it off. "Vhatever. I have a bet for you: I can tell you which type of blood one has wizout looking it up."

"As if," the other one spat. "Prove it!"

The first one picked up Jose's head and let the blood run into his mouth. Seras felt sick, but her hand closed around her gun. Pip stopped her. "We don't 'ave a chance against zem!"

The head thumped on the ground in a splash of blood, along with the hand holding it. The vampire stared at it for a second, before the pain set in and he tried to scream. He didn't, because then his head was separated from the body. The other vampires gasped and stumbled to their feet. They were inhumanly strong, and fast, and blood-thirsty. That was the nature of vampires. But their long stay in Brazil had made them slow and used to having the upper hand.

The long blade cut one vampire in half and decapitated another. The others groped for their weapons. One lost his arm before he could pull the trigger, then his head. "Bring back the head of an enemy or you haven't won. That was the codex of the samurai," Yumie said. She had blood splashes in her face. It had to be a miracle her long dress didn't get entangled with anything. There was not even blood on it.

She whirled on her toes (she was wearing tough black boots, Seras saw) and let out a short, effective battle cry when she slashed through a vampire sneaking up on her. She didn't see the half-dead Nazi lieutenant on the other side. He had lost one arm and half his leg, but he pushed himself upright and darted at her throat. Seras shook off Pip's hand, a warning cry on her lips. Yumie ducked under the attack and sliced the already torn body from the shoulder to the hip. Seras winced and whipped out her gun, even pulling the trigger in surprise. If it had been a vampire, they would be dead. It was a young Iscariot agent with platinum blond hair. He winced and drew his pistols, but didn't shoot. The bullet had missed him by inches.

"Jesus, be careful with that, okay?", he said in a Scandinavian accent.

Yumie landed at the top of the stairs, preferring to jump instead of walk normally. She sheathed the katana after making sure most of the blood had run off the glistening metal. That had to be some kind of lotus effect. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the red drops off her face.

"Thanks for the warning. He might have gotten me otherwise," she said and grinned. The way she just seemed happy, despite having been rescued by a "heathen" made Seras suspect she had just said this to be nice. Which was something at least.

"Nils, what about the others?", the paladin asked the boy.

"Most are waking up, but the mercenaries are still out of order." He shrugged his shoulders. "Are there no more vampires?"

Yumie looked down at the mess. "They were just the vanguard. There are more to come."

"What is this, anyway?", Seras asked. "Why... did we see all this?"

"Oh, that's probably their leader, Zorin Blitz. She has some talent that can show you your worst nightmares." She said this casual, as if it was no big deal. Seras stared at her, and suddenly felt pretty useless, her body shaking with adrenaline. The Vatican had known all of this? And they hadn't bothered to tell their allies, like _Oh, Millennium has a fighter that can knock out a whole unit without weapons or even coming close to them, by the way?_ Not that the Round Table had been any help in gathering information, as far as Seras knew.

"If her concentration gets broken, she'll stop. You don't happen to have a sniper here?"

"I can do that," Seras said immediately. At least she would be able to do something useful now. Yumie nodded. "Grand. Let's go." They followed her to the second floor, where the giant hole began. Seras wondered why the zeppelin hadn't continued firing at the mansion. They must have seen the Harkonnen II on the roof by now. One more reason to bring the mansion down.

Yumie handed her a sniper rifle, the newest of its kind, fully equipped. The owner was staring listlessly at the air, seeming mildly confused, nothing more.

Seras adjusted the rifle and put down the feet on a horizontal ledge of the hole. There she was, the original to the giant that had somehow disappeared while she had been in trance. Even trough the periscope, the woman's eyes could be seen glowing a radioactive green. One hand, the tattooed side, was pressed to the ground, shimmering violet. The other held a scythe.

Seras was no particularly good sniper or anything, but she had experience in the field and they didn't have a lot of other choices. The wind was blowing hot in her face. One gust could make the shot go wherever. "Just break her concentration. I'll take care of her afterwards." Seras clenched her teeth. These Iscariots just thought they were the best of the best and acted like it. Well, she would show them. She might not need to, but she would kill this vampire bitch, right here and now. Some things should stay in the past.

She pulled the trigger. The shot missed. Seras cursed and aimed again. From the spot the bullet had hit there had to be wind blowing from the side. She adjusted her aim. Seras fixed her eye on the target, that woman that had ordered her beasts to slaughter the men in the front hall. That had slaughtered her parents, in a more metaphorical way. Her breath flowed out of her, very softly.

Zorin was punched off her feet by an invisible force hitting her right in the chest. The force gnawing at the edges of Seras' mind vanished.

"What happened?", the owner of the rifle asked as he sat up, rubbing his face. Seras straightened and gave him back his gun. "Thanks," she said and walked over to Pip. "I got her."

Yumie giggled. "I doubt that." Seras' mouth dropped open when the woman with the scythe actually got to her feet again. She made an angry gesture and the vampires joined her.

"Silver bullets are unfit for long-distance shots," Yumie informed nobody in particular. "And you obviously didn't hit her heart. Get your people and barricade somewhere."

"You want us to 'ide?", Pip asked, unsure if that was ridiculous, offensive or a joke.

The nun grinned, while the men woke from their trances. It looked less sane than Seras liked. "No. I want you to be the bait."

* * *

Zorin crushed the bullet she had pulled from her body between her fingers. This little bitch!

"You'll pay for shooting me down!", she growled. It had been the blond Hellsing girl, she had seen that. The one with the cop father. What an unfortunate story. Zorin grinned and stretched, her scythe painting a glistening semi-circle. The pain in her chest disappeared. She would get her revenge. And when she was done, she would go and find that blonde Iscariot she had met in Minnesota. She was here somewhere. Someone like her missed no big fight. Zorin couldn't wait to see what she was hiding, from her friends and from herself. She would beg for mercy before she died slowly. Nobody shot at Zorin Blitz and didn't get punished.

"Ve're going in!", Zorin announced. "Vhat about reinforcements?"

"First lieutenant, ve haf not heard from anyone on ze zeppelin in several minutes."

Zorin grinned. She had just found who she was looking for. But the mercenary girl came first. "Doesn't matter. Ve're going in!" She went first, jumping easily over the knives and arriving at the front porch before the mercenaries inside could set off the mines manually.

"Get going!", a voice with a French accent shouted upstairs. The girl's companion. Ah yes, that bug needed to be taken care of as well. In the hall lay a pile of mercenary bodies, but also of their vanguard. Zorin frowned. It was not the losses, who cared about that, but how they had been destroyed. A grin spread on her face. "Vell, vell, looks like somebody has just my hobby."

"Vhere are zey?", somebody in the back murmured.

"Hiding like ze insects zey are!", Zorin announced. "Spread out. Destroy zem. Paint zis mansion with their blood!"

The soldiers dashed off except for a small group that stayed with their leader. From further away, there was panicked gunfire and then the lovely smell of blood. Zorin wiped over the hole in her shirt. The wound was almost closed and only hurt faintly. Definitely less than the mercenary girl would hurt when Zorin was done with her. The little bitch would pay.

The vampires slowly walked down the lobby to the central staircase. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," Zorin chirped. From the right, there was static from a radio, then a frightened man's voice. Seemed like the others had missed a little rat hiding behind a corner. Zorin didn't blame them. She got to have a little fun, too. Of course, her main toy was still running around, but a little snack was never a bad idea. These tiny insect underestimated a vampire's fine senses.

"Captain, we're spent," the man said, sounding desperate, but somewhat resigned, too. "We're a mess, most are as good as dead, me included. We can't retreat." Zorin raised her hand to keep her men from attacking. She had something more amusing in mind. She touched the wall and felt familiar warmth spreading through her body while the violet wave soaked the corridor.

Cillian Underwood had been a mercenary for a good twenty years. He had never moved to another flat, but he was never there anyway. Even if he had the time, it was not more than a place to crash if he really had no other choice. But he recognized his own living room, where he had lived for so long. Where they all had lived.

"Welcome home dear." He almost dropped his gun. They were standing there like nothing had happened.

"Stana. Michelle," he stammered. "That's impossible. You- you're dead."

"What's wrong, Daddy?", Michelle asked, laughing. His little girl, with her tooth gap smile and fluffy brown hair. "You look awful."

"Now don't be rude, darling," Stana said mildly and stroked her hair. "Cil, you have been away for too long. This is not good for you." Cillian fell to his knees. "Oh, oh God, it's another illusion, isn't it?" He let the gun drop to the ground and put his arms around his daughter. She was slender and warm and smelled of her blueberry shampoo. "Dear God, why do you look so real. Michelle!"

"Because you're a sentimental fool." That was not Stana's voice. It was the witch. Cillian looked up and saw Stana's pretty face change. Her teeth fell out, her long golden hair, her skin turned to leather and her bones withered. She turned into a mummy in the matter of seconds. Michelle giggled as the same happened to her.

"They're wormfood, but don't vorry. You'll join zem soon." Zorin raised her scythe, the unfortunate fool frozen in place, the shadow of his long-dead daughter in his arms. Minds were so easy to trick. Humans were weak. A grin betrayed the ecstasy of killing surging through her body, even if it was nothing physical.  
"Lieutenant!" The vampire was cut off in a splash of blood and suddenly the scythe was slapped out of her hands with a metallic clank. Something slammed into her and flung her into the wall. A normal human's skull would have been crushed, but all it accomplished is making her see stars for a second. Looked like the Hellsing's vampires had finally arrived. That would be fun. Emily hadn't done all too well, but she had been a child, and Rip had been a coward anyway, but nobody matched her. But that was not the vampire's voice. It was that damned nun again.

"Normally I wouldn't bother to help a heathen, but I have my orders." There were a few shots, then silence. Zorin got up, her head spinning. Her men had been reduced to a blood heap. The mercenary was gone, as was the nun. Zorin snarled and retrieved her scythe. There was a scratch on the shaft she didn't recognize. Something sharp had hit it and cut out a narrow line. She cursed herself for not looking more closely at the girl's memories. They hadn't seemed interesting, just the usual mistreated-child-boringness. She would have to correct that mistake.

They would pay. These arrogant mice, thinking they could outsmart a tiger. She could smell them all over the place. They would go out screaming for the mercy of death.

"Lieutenant Blitz!" She turned around. The group from the West Wing was back. The men looked at her fallen comrades with confusion and an uneasiness she didn't like. "Ze mansion is almost empty."

"Vhat do you mean, almost empty?," Zorin snapped. "Eizer zey're here or zey're running like the ants zey are."

"Zey have barricaded zemselves in ze Round Table room on ze zird floor. It looks like a trap." Zorin giggled, an utterly absurd sound, like a small girl instead of the woman she was.

"Ants under a rock. I knew it. How many Panzerfäuste do ve have left?"

"Two, Lieutenant," she was informed. "Ze ozers are still on ze zeppelin."

"Ve can't get a connection," Fritz said. Zorin rolled her eyes. He had always been a coward. And something like that called himself Waffen-SS vampire.  
"Ze Iskariot organization has probably tried to take over and our men are still fighting. I'll take care of it once ve're done here."

She wanted to cut the man who asked the next question to little shreds, from the feet upward. "Is Alexander Anderson with zem?" Zorin controlled herself. Cowards and fools. Was she the only one with a hint of bravery? But then again, she had known this seventy years ago. Men. Typical.

"No. And even if, you don't have to vorry about him. Let's finish zese bugs before ve take back our airship." She waved them onward and climbed to the third floor. The office door was barricaded, but there was a small space so they could shoot. The corridor was empty.

The vampires were greeted with automatic gunfire from behind the heap of furniture. Zorin heard the bugs curse. They were almost out of ammunition. "Panzerfaust," she ordered in a low voice. Didn't want to spoil the surprise, right?

Siegfried did as he was told, aiming right at the top line of the barricade. With a bit of luck, the Panzerfaust would fly into the room and explode there. If not, it didn't matter either. "Ready to fire, lieutenant!"

"Get away from the barrier!", a soft Scandinavian voice whispered.

"Vait!", Zorin said. Siegfried took his hand from the trigger again. Zorin grinned. A good heart was always wasted on the fools. Or only fools were soft enough to retain a good heart. She dashed to the left and grabbed the boy before he could react. It was a young man in the attire of a paladin. So the Iscariots had split up, one part here, one part on the zeppelin. Lovely. More fun for her.

The boy was pale and blond, with bright blue eyes. The perfect Aryan, if you followed Hitler's ridiculous ideas. Nils Svensson, she heard his name in his thoughts. She only needed a few seconds to access the darkest corner of his past. His parents dying screaming in a burning car in the middle of the Swedish woods, only managing to save him. The boy wandering about the woods for days until he was found and taken in by a secluded convent led by a retired paladin. There was never a doubt where his future lay.

Nils tried to bring his guns up, but Zorin just squished his hand to a pulp. The boy screamed in pain and dropped his weapons. Zorin held him upright with her illusion hand on the throat and looked around. "Is nobody going to help him? Yumiko, maybe? You saved a heathen but von't help your companion? Are you scared or zat merciless because he screwed up?"

"Damned heathen mercenaries," he hissed. His face was streaked with tears, but his eyes were still burning with determination. An astoundingly strong will, she had to give him that much.

A turmoil behind the barrier. "You bloody -"

"Feuer!", Zorin ordered. The Panzerfaust hit right at home. It didn't destroy the barrier completely, but there were screams and curses. The delicious smell of blood flooded the corridor anew.

"Get 'im away from zere!", the French leader snapped. Then, finally the girl's voice. She sounded wonderfully scared. "Pip, you're bleeding." Oh yes, and he would bleed even more before he was allowed to die under Millennium's boots. And then Seras would suffer so much she forgot about him over the agony. Mind tricks were one thing, but nothing beat physical pain.

She turned back to the Iscariot boy. "How careless of your people to leave you here alone." She dropped him, then stomped on his back as he lay crouched there. His spine broke with a snap. He gasped, but didn't have enough air to scream.

"Uhm, Lieutenant, are you sure he's alone?" Zorin hissed and the vampire stumbled back.

"Vhat does zat matter?", she snapped. "Zey're just humans. Prepare ze second Panzerfaust." She raised her scythe. The kid was becoming boring.

"Amen," he whispered, just before the blade dug into his heart. A pool of blood gathered under him. Zorin kicked the lifeless body away, disgusted by the serene expression on his face. Religious fanatics.

Then he exploded in her face. For a second, she was blinded, her skin almost bubbling in the heat as she was thrown off her feet and against the next wall. She landed on her knees, smoking from the explosion. But the only thing burning really hot was her rage.

"I suppose you von't go to paradise zen," she said with a forced smile. Her men looked around, standing in a wide semi-circle, just not too close to the burning body. "Shoot zem!", Zorin snapped. "Destroy zat barricade and rip zose so-called holy varriors to pieces!"

Siegfried was handed the second grenade. "Ready to -" A bullet took his head off. The vampires spun. Zorin stayed where she was.

"We're the legion of Judas Iscariot, the Vatican's secret and most unholy weapon," a female voice said. "We are His representatives on Earth, his agents of divine wrath."

"Feuer, verdammt noch mal!", Zorin snapped. Bullets flew past her, a few reflecting off the blade of her scythe. Otherwise the men held them off. If the mercenaries started to fire now, Zorin's troop would be caught in the crossfire. Zorin turned around and started walking. Of course. It had to come to this. The paladins let her through without trying to stop her. She could have killed half a dozen of them in one swipe, but she didn't. The God-whore was awaiting her, katana drawn, not a splash on her dress, with a wide grin on her face. That dress would be her doom, Zorin suddenly decided. It had no place in a fight.

"How charming, using the kid as bait," Zorin mocked her. There was a hint of sadness in the nun's violet eyes, but her voice was calm.

"Limbo awaits all of us sooner or later."

Zorin snorted a laugh. "Limbo? Really?"

"You won't understand of course. You'll burn in hell soon enough." Zorin grinned, and attacked. A ridiculous human challenging _her_, Millennium's strongest vampire. The scythe blurred to a glistening silver semi-circle and cut through the air where Yumie's feet should have been. A boot hit her face and the flat side of her scythe clashed with metal. That little bitch was fast.

Zorin rolled away just as a blade grazed her leg even through the thick fabric of her trousers. She scrambled to her feet again, blood seeping into her boot. "Not bad. Really. But how about this?" She slammed her right palm on the ground, the illusion eye searching seeing, showing her the worst pains and memories.

_"Discipline, masume. That is all that matters. You do not question orders from up high. You don't make mistakes." Yumiko looked down, wondering what her arms would look like without the colors. She vaguely remembered a time they had been smooth and didn't hurt, but that was far away. She didn't have to hurt others back then._

A movement in the corner of her eye, barely a flicker. Katana and scythe clashed. The girl was strong, and not stupid enough she could win head-on. Speed was her advantage. She jumped back and changed the grip on the katana. Zorin gaped at her. She should be paralyzed!

"Leave Yumiko alone," Yumie said. "Nobody hurts her as long as I'm here." Zorin hissed. A split personality. She should have seen it from the start. Well, that was certainly interesting.

Yumie dodged the next swing and the katana opened a cut on Zorin's arm. The vampire hissed and punched her in the face. Oh look, she didn't expect that. Yumie stumbled back and Zorin got a grip on her with the illusion eye. If she couldn't hurt the main personality, she'd have to take down the guardian first.

_"HEINKEL!" Yumie stared up at the roof of the factory. A deep river separated her from the hall. She couldn't get there in time, let alone on the roof. Her friend had retreated to the very edge of the roof, balancing only on the narrow gable, the vampire right in front of her. It would be a deep fall. Or she got bitten, which was worse. She didn't even have her guns. Why she had given them to Yumie was a mystery. All she knew was that she was scared for her friend and angry about being so helpless. The blond paladin took another step back. The vampire stroked her cheek and then grabbed her collar to expose her neck. Heinkel grabbed his shirt. They wavered for a moment, and then fell._

A fist hit Zorin's face and she crashed to the ground. The scythe flew whereever again.

"Heinkel finished him off in the water," Yumie said, panting. "Vampires are weak to that, remember?" Zorin managed to dodge the katana's swipe, which would have taken her head off, but she was still dizzy. Her power had a certain backlash she had thought she gotten rid of decades ago. Zorin had never encountered someone that mentally strong. Her hand closed around the scythe and this time she hit. The tip slashed right across the whore's stomach. Yumie gasped and fell to her knees, blood running on the floor in a hot, sweet stream. Before Zorin could finish her off, a bullet hit her in the shoulder. Another one took off two fingers of her left hand. She turned around, snarling in rage and pain. Iscariot had dealt with her men, it seemed, though they hadn't gone unscathed either. The Major would be severely pissed. Or it had always been his plan. Would fit him. Either way, time to make a tactical retreat, no matter how much it stung. She would regroup on the airship and then come back to finish them off.

"I'm not done with you!", she snarled. She snapped her fingers and for a second, the paladins were put off by a sudden cloud appearing from nowhere. They didn't want to risk Yumie's life by just shooting. The next moment, the vampire was gone.

* * *

_Millennium airship "Graf Zeppelin III", September 22nd, 2016, 1.30 am_

"Was zat it?", Francois asked. About half their group had gathered in the command center of the zeppelin and the others were arriving back from their various routes of searching the zeppelin for more enemies. Once it was clear, they would either figure out how to use it against Millennium, or if that wasn't possible, just burn it down.

Heinkel walked in a bit too fast to appear calm. The others turned around. Angelo looked worried. "Something wrong?"

The Wolf hesitated and took a deep breath. "Has anyone seen Victoria? You know, my trainee who sneaked in for some reason without my knowledge?" Her words were sharp with tension. Many of her colleagues looked guilty. They had let it pass after all without so much as informing her. Not knowing better was no excuse.

"What happened?"

"We got cornered in a hallway and were separated. I couldn't find her anywhere after that." Heinkel tried to stay calm. She had trained the girl herself. Vicky was a good fighter, more than good enough to pass the exam months ago. But she was worried, alright. She couldn't help it.

Angelo nodded. "We'll search for her once everybody else arrived. She'll be fine."

"I suppose," Heinkel sighed. "What about the others in the mansion?"

"We're trying to reach them, but they're probably still fighting." Speak of the devil, their radios crackled, including the ones belonging to the zeppelin. A young woman's voice asked: "Hello, Iscariot? Can you hear me?" Seras Victoria, the girl Heinkel had spoken to briefly. She raised her hand to shut the others up.

"Hello?"

"Miss Wolfe?", Seras asked. The paladins erupted into snickers, at least trying to be quiet. Heinkel ignored them. When was the last time anyone called her Miss Wolfe? God, that sounded weird.

"Paladin. Nah, forget it, call me Heinkel. How's the situation?"

"The vampires here are all dead, but their leader escaped. She's on her way to the airship I suppose. Be careful, she's really dangerous."

Wait, if Blitz had escaped... didn't Yumie want to take her on? "Casualties?" She had a really bad feeling. Somebody else took the radio. His voice seemed a bit strange for some reason, but after a second Heinkel realized it was only Giorgio.

"There were more casualties to the mercenaries, around fifteen or so. They're pretty battered and their leader is injured quite bad." Heinkel rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. What did she care about those guys? She had more urgent things in mind. She wouldn't put it past Vicky to run off alone.

"We lost Nils, Maxim and Issak. Yumie got injured by the leader, I'm not sure if she can -" he was interrupted. The noise indicated the radio had been snatched from him. Yumie sounded strained.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm fine."

"Bullshit, you don't sound fine," Heinkel said harsher than planned. First Vicky disappeared and now her best friend was injured. Great night.

"'Tis but a scratch," Yumie joked. Heinkel couldn't fight a smile. It was quickly wiped off when somebody in the background muttered "Yeah, almost seeing one's guts is just a scratch". Was it that bad? She tried not to let her worry show. Yumie would kick her ass if she behaved like a cat over her kitten.

"Don't you start with that too." Enrico had begun using what seemed to be Shakespearean expressions since he met the director of Hellsing. What was up with her, anyway? Enrico was not the right type to fancy a woman that badly. He never had any woman, not romantically, as far as she knew and they'd been friends since their childhood. For a while through a few hundred miles, of course, but nevertheless, Heinkel thought she knew him pretty well. And it worried her how he had behaved in France. At least Lisa was with him to step in if things got really bad. If _he_ got really bad.

Yumie laughed and that didn't sound good. Her voice seemed rusty. She had to be in a lot of pain to be off the rails that much. "Sorry. That damn monster got me for a second. You didn't exaggerate her powers. Be careful."

"I will. And you do nothing stupid. Rest a bit, we'll handle this. I'll fetch you once that bitch is nothing but a pile of ash."

"When do we do something stupid?", Yumie joked. "Aside from what the chief says." The others laughed and Heinkel laughed with them. So Yumie thought the same thing about their old friend.

"Bye." The connection was cut and Heinkel felt like she had been eavesdropped on during a private call. The others were back. All except for three. Including Vicky.

Angelo turned to her. "Connor and Abe didn't make it. Nobody saw Victoria."

Heinkel clenched her fists. Her hands hurt by now from pulling the trigger. Even she was not used to such long fights. "I'll go look for her. I might have an idea where she is. Give me ten minutes."

"We'll wait here and contact you after that," Angelo confirmed. Heinkel nodded and ran out. She could be grateful for their understanding. After all, she hadn't made sure Vicky stayed home, or had not trained her to obey orders enough. Whatever happened, it was her fault.

From the main corridors in the gondola, there was a door at the far end that brought her into the zeppelin itself. The gas chambers were full and silver over her head. She found a ladder that brought her to a walkway right through the horizontal axis of the zeppelin. There was a maze of gangplanks on different levels and sublevels, where ammunition and other cargo was stuffed. They certainly didn't dream small building this thing. Here and there were piles of ash where the paladins had destroyed Millennium's monsters.

Heinkel had to walk almost all the way to the back until she found what she was looking for. There was another ladder climbing all the way up to the top of the zeppelin, where the hull was broken by a trapdoor. And the lock had been recently opened.

She began her journey upwards, checking on the different levels for enemies the others might have missed. She could expect either a pissed-off or devastated Vicky either with or without dead vampires around. Heinkel was lucky she had just set her feet on the semi-solid ground of an intermediate level when she collapsed.

* * *

_Munich airport, June 19th, 2008_

"I've got something for you. Actually, it was intended for your birthday, but I want to give it to you now." He gave her a small packet wrapped in colorful paper. "Come on, open it. I want to see your reaction."

"It's unlucky to wish a happy birthday beforehand."

"Only in Germany," Chris said with a laugh. Heinkel complied and opened the wrapper. The box was the size of a photograph. That was also what was in it, a photo of him and her. That had been on the Rise Against concert last year, she realized. Her blond hair was in a ponytail, with only a few strands falling in her eyes, but not enough to hide the scars. But in those moments it hadn't mattered. Chris' dark hair was even more messy than usual and his blue eyes were sparkling. They were smiling like there was nothing bad in the world able to touch them. Heinkel took out the photo and a silver cross blinked at her. Not the small kind, either. She lifted it out of its box carefully. It was simple, but quality work. On the back were three words and three letters.

_God is love. H &amp; C_

She could only stare at it for a moment. "Oh God, are you crazy, that must have been super expensive!" She hugged him.

"So what? It's for you, after all. Want to put it on?"

"Sure." She turned around and held her hair up so he could fasten it around her neck. She touched it, feeling the small weight against her chest and knew she probably wouldn't take it off anymore for quite a while.

"Thank you." She laid her arms around his neck and he put his hands on her waist. "I love you."

She hated the sting in these words. It was true. But that didn't keep her from considering leaving Germany behind to become an Iscariot. Yumie would, and Enrico too, even Lisa. It felt like she had a duty to God. But it would also mean leaving behind her best friend, and the man she loved. They had fought over this too often. In the end, Chris left the decision to her, and that made her love him even more, and the decision all the more difficult.

"Flight IT-7105 for Rome is leaving in twenty minutes. Please check in your luggage."

Heinkel put the box and the photo carefully in her bag. She took his warm hands and closed her eyes leaning her forehead against his. Did she really want to give this up? Yes, she loved fighting, and she wanted to help defeat evil, like the evil that had killed her parents, or heretics like Klaus Wagner, but couldn't she do this with Chris at her side?

"I have to go," he said softly. She opened her eyes and looked into his. They kissed. "Maybe I'll even run into your Father Anderson. Would surely be an interesting conversation."

She laughed and let go, although she didn't want to. He should stay here. With her. "Yeah, you do that, globetrotter." She watched him go through security and check in his bag. Suddenly, she found herself running to the cordon. It was so easy, she wondered why she had been brooding over it for so long. She knew exactly what she had to do.

"Chris!" He stopped and turned around. "I've made my decision."

He smiled at her, not betraying if he was happy or feared it. Probably both.

"Then I can't wait to call you."

* * *

_Munich-Neuhausen, June 20th, 2008_

"The reasons for the crash are not known yet. The pilot is in the ICU and not available for a statement. The co-pilot seems to be in a shock and has been brought into psychic care. The blackbox shows a sudden drop, maybe due to winds or a technical failure. We only know Flight IT-7105 crashed near the Italian-Austrian border. Rescue teams were there half an hour later. So far, there are three dead, including an 18-year old German student. The number of the injured is not known yet. Official press-"

Heinkel shut off the TV and the room went silent. She touched the cross, looking at the glistening already so familiar. She saw her own face, the long blond hair, green eyes and the bright scars. They seemed to glow. The only thing making them disappear had gone on to another world. The cold metal hurt on her warm skin.

"Are you alright?", Alessia asked. Heinkel didn't wince, but her eyes focused again. She nodded, not saying a word and stood up to return to her room, leaving her younger sister to puzzle what had happened. She grabbed her hunting knife – she never had been hunting, but that was what it was – and locked the bathroom door behind her.

Twenty minutes later, her mother got a little shock when she saw her daughter coming down the stairs. It was not even how pale she was or the fact that she had cut off her beautiful hair. Her eyes looked just like they had after the incident in the jewelry shop. Dead. And furious.

"Heinkel, what the-" The girl ignored her. She went to the phone standing in the living room and dialed. It didn't take long for someone to pick up. She switched to English.

"Hello Father Anderson. Yes, I've made my decision. When can I come over?"

* * *

_Graf Zeppelin III, September 22nd, 2016, 2 am_

Heinkel blinked up at blood-splattered black boots. Why was she lying on the ground? Her face was tear-streaked. She only remembered... Oh, God, she remembered.

"Lovely story." Heinkel wanted to jump up, but a wooden rod pinned her down. The hilt of the witch's scythe. The vampire grinned down at her. "Really, that was one of the best I ever saw. Movie-like. That would be your precious cross, then?" She grabbed the silver cross and jerked it off. The chain broke with a sharp pain as it dug into Heinkel's skin.  
She groped for her weapons, but Zorin laid the tip of the scythe against her throat. She examined the pendant. That cross should burn the bitch to cinders, but she was only touching it with the glove on her left hand. She had lost two fingers already, but that didn't stop her from holding it up and examining it. "H &amp; C. How romantic. Tell me, what was your decision? Before he unfortunately became wormfood, I mean."

"Give that back, you bitch!", Heinkel spat.

"Make me, o mighty paladin," Zorin said, bending down to meet her furious eyes. "Look at you, lying on your back like a bug, crying like a little girl over some idiot from years ago. You would be dead already if I wanted to. But as it is, I left you a little present. I'll go back to London now. If you want, come and find me, so I can finish you off. Ciao~"

And with that, she jumped off the platform and vanished, Heinkel's cross in hand. The paladin gritted her teeth. It took all of her willpower not to scream after her. Instead, she made contact with Angelo. The older paladin sounded relieved.

"We were already worried after you didn't respond."

Heinkel checked her watch. She had been out for almost twenty minutes. "I'm good. The leader was here. She got away and is on her way to London. I'll join you after I've checked on something. Oh and... if you happen to find a silver cross, that's mine. I dropped it in the fight." She didn't want to know how blatant that lie was.

"No problem. How long do you need?"

"A few minutes, tops. I'll be right back." She shut off the radio. There was nothing else around, so there was only one possibility where the vampire could have left the "present". Heinkel climbed up the rest of the ladder and pushed open the trapdoor. Up here, the wind was surprisingly strong. She could see London burning. The crusaders had arrived, every helicopter a tiny star. The zeppelin seemed to stretch into eternity before it ended in the tail fin. Heinkel froze. The ground seemed to dissolve under her feet and she fell into eternal darkness.

"God," she whispered. "Oh God, no."

* * *

Yeah, cliffhanger again. I'm not sorry xD I had problems planning out this chapter, but in the end, it turned out kinda awesome, I think. The power of positive thinking! Or fanaticism. I'm doing barely anything else than writing right now. ...Good for you, right?

When I read over parts of the story again, I realized our favorite katana-wielding berserker had next to no screen time so far. I had to change that! She's such an interesting character. For her past I went with the theory that she's got a split personality because seh ws abused as a child by some cult. Please don't ask how I got the idea of "Daughters of the Spider". Musume means daughter, okaa-sama means mother.

So more and more backstory. What do you think? Did I nail it?


	25. One Shot at Glory

I swear it, guys, I couldn't wait to upload this. It actually kinda annoys me that I'm so much further in the storyline than you xD

ANYWAY! Big news! My friend (because I can't draw shit, but she can!) drew a cover for Renegade and a sketch of Mira. [Goddamn page eats the links.] My profile name is Cedidit. You can find them there.

New chapter! The alternative title (I've got a lot of those for next to every chapter concenring the battle) was "If I fall", that's a song by Sunrise Avenue. Check it out, except for a few lines it totally discribes my take of Enrico.

Thanks to kinniget and catsvsdogscatswin fro reviewing!

Enough babbling (that comes after the chapter^^), have fun!

* * *

**Chapter 24: One Shot at Glory**

_London, September 22nd, 2 am_

Caitlyn pressed herself into the next door frame when bullets hit the ground. "Run! Get into shelter!", she shrieked at the terrified people. Only few actually moved. "They haven't come to save us?", a woman howled. Caitlyn didn't allow herself to think before she dashed across the street and pulled a little girl under cover just before another volley of bullets splashed up rubble. The child was shivering in her arms. Caitlyn forced the door open. The house was empty and seemed more or less stable. She sat down the whimpering girl in an improvised fort.

"Hey," she whispered. "Look at me." The girl did, with reddened, terrified eyes. "What's your name?"

"Emily," she whispered. Caitlyn felt very cold. The girl had been sitting around all the time, where whoever had left her. Because she couldn't walk. She had lost both her lower legs.

Emily Reese. The girl Mira had fought barely three weeks ago and injured so badly.

"Where's your Dad?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders. "Wanted to pick me up for hospital. Didn't come. The others brought me." Then the attack began and they were separated, killed or worse. This little girl had suffered so much. First she was kidnapped and brainwashed to fight Mira, then she was injured by the vampire queen, and now she was stuck in the middle of this hell. That was not right. What did she do to deserve that?

Caitlyn stroked her hair. "Okay, listen. You will stay here. Stay hidden until this is over."

Emily clung to her arm. "Can't you stay with me?"

It seemed to hurt physically to let the girl go,not just because she dug her small fingers into Caitlyn's arm.

"I can't. There are others who still need me. I'll come back to get you once this is over." Emily's green eyes were full of tears, but she nodded.

"Promise me."

"I promise." The same instant, a panicked man stormed into the building.

"They're not here to help," he babbled. "They want to kill us. How can they do this? Dear God-"

Caitlyn jumped to her feet and tried to cover Emily until she knew it was alright. "Hey!"

The man stared at her. He wore a ripped suit. "Who are you?"

"Doesn't matter. Who are you?"

"...Daniel." He looked into space for a second. "Holmes. Why are they not helping us? God, oh God." Caitlyn stepped forward and shook him, not exactly gentle, until he looked at her again. He was a good deal taller and more muscular than her, but he moved like a rag doll.  
"Get the civilians off the streets. Hide in the cellar, if there is one. And take care of Emily until I come back." He nodded, very slowly, after looking at the terrified child with the bandaged leg stumps. "What's your name?"

"Caitlyn Morris. Listen, I have to go, but I'll come back to get you. Get the others in here and then barricade the doors, before the ghouls get in. _Do you understand?_"

Vatican knights in their airships landed nearby. Metallic footsteps and gunfire. They froze. Emily whimpered, but stayed silent. Caitlyn shoved Daniel in her direction and opened the door a crack. Nothing. The crusaders had gone on. Vampires ran past, but they didn't pay attention to the civilians. Many of them had been hit by bullets or rubble. Caitlyn opened the door and ran to the first group. The two woman and one man winced and automatically raised their hands.

"It's alright. Come with me." She led them to the house, where Daniel had found the cellar entrance and begun to collect furniture for a barricade. In the biggest crisis, everybody needed a task to avoid a panic. "Anyone with a first-aid-training?", Caitlyn asked. One of the woman raised her hand.

"Good. You take care of the wounded. You," she indicated the other man, "take a look at anyone who comes in. Does anyone have a gun?"

"Here!" Daniel showed a box with two semi-automatics and a rifle. Whoever had lived here, he had prepared well. Did it help him? She would never know.

"I'll send other survivors in the vicinity here. It's hard to explain, but if anyone dies because of a wound, you have to shoot him. In the head would be best. Otherwise he'll become a ghoul. I know it's a lot, but..." But the others just accepted it. Caitlyn took a deep breath. This went better than expected. "Daniel, you organize everything. Fifteen minutes tops, then you go downstairs and put up the barricade until anyone comes to rescue you."

"What if they try to trick us?", the other woman asked quietly.

"Oh believe me, the Vatican and M- the others are pretty straightforward about who they are. If anyone from Hellsing wants to pick you up after the battle is over, it should be alright. But take the weapons with you."

"Caitlyn." Daniel offered her one of the semi-automatics. "You'll need it out there, right?"

"Thank you. God rest you merry." Emily raised a hand and tried a salute. Caitlyn tried to smile, for her, returned it and left, after checking the coast was clear. She hated guns, but suddenly it was a good feeling to be armed again.

Crusaders and vampires had gone on. She could hear the helicopters touching down in a place not too far away. In between statics there were the voices of the vampires. "Assemble!"

And over everything, a voice she had first loved, and now hated.

"Look over this way!", Maxwell told his crusaders. She had thought his Italian accent would sound cute if he allowed it to be, but now it only made her wish she didn't feel like she still did. "Look over this way!" Caitlyn could see him, a vague shape in a glass cube, making wild gestures. There was another shape at the back. Could it be?

"Your objective lies before you! See to the eradication of our enemies!_ Execution_!" The gunships that weren't landing were still attacking the big zeppelin. The _Deus Ex Machina_. The god from the machine. The Major had a sense of irony, that much was sure. He was probably enjoying the show.

Enrico Maxwell did for sure. Caitlyn wished she had a radio, any means to talk to him. He was drunk on power. But if not even Lisa could bring him to his senses, what did Caitlyn think she could do? How silly of her. _The man's undone forever; for if Enrico break not his neck in the combat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory._

A bible page fluttered past Caitlyn's face. She caught it. Revelations, chapter 7. Anderson could not be far, but he had other things in mind than her. Caitlyn was not more important than all these terrified watchers, those who hadn't been able to flee in time.

A helicopter approached the airship head-on. If the giant zeppelin was armed, it didn't fire back. Bullets were spraying off the hull like tiny sparklers. Then the helicopter just fell apart in mid-air, and exploded.

"She's returning," a voice behind her said.

Caitlyn spun. "Walter?" There was no one. She was alone in the rubble and smoke. Her gaze fell on a battered black sedan. It had been hit by rubble, but except for a few scratches, it seemed intact. The wheels certainly looked okay.

Mira was finally returning. Caitlyn should go to the battlefield like all the others. Mira would know how to go on. The Major had to be stopped. Maxwell had to be stopped.

Caitlyn walked around the car for a moment. She opened every door and even the trunk. The keys were lying on the driver's seat. She called herself silly. If anyone wanted to kill her, there were easier ways. She was standing in the biggest hell one could create on earth. It was more likely she was killed by a ghoul. There was no need to prepare something as elaborate as a trap. It all seemed too set up to be a coincidence. There even was a smaller jacket, about her size, on the back seat. She had to look twice to see the leather was a dark blue, almost black. Shaking her head, Caitlyn took off Arthur's coat. The new jacket fit her well and was just as warm.

"Thank you, Walter," she said loudly, without expecting an answer. His voice had been right behind her, not in her thoughts. Whatever reason he had to stay in the shadows, she had to rely on him. Trusting his judgment had never gone wrong. Her family was all she had.

She climbed into the car and she adjusted the seat. Doing that felt ridiculously normal in this apocalypse. She put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine sputtered, almost died, then roared to life.

Caitlyn carefully turned out of the spot the car was framed in by big chunks of stone and metal. The sedan seemed to be new and answered to her every command. She could only hope the Iscariots had been at the mansion in time to help the Wild Geese. As to Caitlyn herself, she had other tasks to attend to. Her vampires were fine by themselves. Others needed to be saved first.

* * *

Machine gun fire rained down on the bloody, beaten and scared civilians.

"Die, die, die, DIE!", Enrico rejoiced with a shrill laugh. "Yes, kill them all!" Men and women, few children, scurried around down there, searching for cover while being mowed down by bullets from the people they thought to have come to save them. "This is our power! Feast your eyes! This is the power of the Vatican! Know this, insects!"

Lisa was frozen where she stood. Her body refused to do what it was supposed to. She needed to do something, but she couldn't. Her eyes were locked on the ground, so far away from her. The 'ground' under her feet was swerving while the helicopter carried them forward. They were so far up. A wave of dizziness hit her, making her head spin. She was trembling and wished for someone she could hold on to, someone to protect her. Her fear of heights hadn't been that bad for more than fifteen years. Her brother had protected her, or her colleagues from Iscariot had given her the safety of support. But she was alone. Her brother would not help her.

Enrico laughed again, his voice sounding like glass shards grinding over stone. "Look! Look at these miserable bugs! The only good protestant is a dead protestant!"

Lisa stumbled forward, breaking out of her paralysis. Her legs were trembling. She bumped against the man that now had only a vague resemblance to her brother and clung on for dear life. "Rico, stop this!", she begged. "This is wrong! Please, come to your senses!" He shook her off without even looking at her. Maybe he didn't even notice. Lisa almost fell, but could steady herself against the glass wall. The ground was so far away...

"What is Anderson doing?", Enrico barked into the microphone. He was not even giving anyone time to answer. "Where is the rest of Iscariot? What about the gunships? Continue attacking the airships! Use full force! How long can it take to bring this huge thing down? Full scale attack!"

"We are in the process of landing and forming troops! We cannot yet attack with full force!", the guy with the Spanish accent reported.

"Oh shut up!", Enrico snapped. "If your heart is faithful, do it now! Anderson! Where is Anderson? Has Caitlyn still not been captured?" He broke off and Lisa almost thought he had come to his senses enough to at least listen to what she had to say. A small screen on the lectern lit up. Enrico stared at it for a moment. "What do you mean you lost sight of the Eagle? An enormous thing like that?" He stepped back and Lisa managed to look at the air shot of Dover. Or what she could see of Dover. Not just the port, the whole city had been swallowed by a dull white mist. The same that was coming up the Thames right now.

"A ghost ship," she whispered.

"Find it!", Enrico barked, sudden fear in his voice. "That's not some wreckage! Vladimira is on that ship! And continue attacking! Where the hell is Anderson? Mow them down to the last, understand?!"

"Bishop, we're still-"

"Don't talk to me like that!", he snapped. "I'm not a bishop! Kill them! Every last one! They will feel God's wrath!" Another of those horrible grins had spread on his face.

Lisa grabbed his arm and spun him around. He tried to shake her off in annoyance. Lisa let go, and pushed him away, reaching the buttons shutting off the microphones. He didn't seem to notice.

"Enrico, stop this!", she screamed at him. "What the hell got into you?"

He waved her away like an annoying insect. "I told you not to interfere." He turned back to the lectern. "There! Our enemies are being squashed like the bugs they are! Isn't it beautiful?" He laughed. Vladimira had arrived, a red dot in the clearing mist. The Blackbird stuck out of the deck like a giant cross. Lisa was trembling. Something terrible would happen. She could feel it. Even Enrico in his power-induced madness looked nervous for a second. But nothing could disturb his mania for long. Vladimira jumped off the ship, her red coat fluttering, and landed in the middle of the crusaders. The men stumbled back, not able to hide their fear. Enrico snarled in disgust.

A flutter of bible pages and Alexander Anderson was there to face her. Lisa was trembling in fear she couldn't explain, much more than her suddenly almost forgotten fear of heights, but Enrico smiled. "Alex," he said softly. "About time."

In a flash of green, a tall man in a long uniform coat jumped off the Deus Ex Machina and landed next to paladin and vampire. "The werewolf," Lisa said. She had to, just to understand it. Everything was going to go down, here and now. Either they won or they all died.

The three trump cards of three rivaling organizations, in the middle between white-robed crusaders and black-clothed vampire soldiers. Enrico laughed triumphantly. "Yes, this is it! This is what we've been waiting for!" Something in Lisa shattered at this moment, once and for all.

The crusaders began firing, as did the vampires. A whole dozen of bayonets dug into Vladimira, but of course there was no way of killing her like that. The werewolf jumped out of the way.

"Be prepared," the Major's voice echoed over the battlefield. His tone was soft. "Ze River of Death is coming."

* * *

_I have returned, my master._

Caitlyn almost ripped the wheel around and hit a wall when she heard Mira's voice in her head. "Mira, thank God you're back! Have you seen Walter? He went off to fight the werewolf, and-"

The answer was a low chuckle._ Walter can take care of himself. There are matters more important, my master. Lady Caitlyn Olivier Morris Hellsing. Give me your orders._

She had known it would come to this eventually. The answer was easy, really. They were asking for it. "Destroy Millennium. Every last one of them. Kill the Major and everyone who doesn't surrender." She swerved around a ghoul and turned a corner. Many streets were blocked and she had turned around more often than she wanted to count. "As to the Ninth Crusade... Drive them back to where they came from. Make them surrender, what the heck, I don't know. Just make them leave us alone."

Mira laughed. A chill ran down Caitlyn's spine. It was not even Mira's real voice, just telepathy, but that made it even worse. _Master_, Mira said in a tone an adult would use on a silly child. It seemed very real all of a sudden. _Once I release all my powers, and that will be necessary to beat this opponent, they will not make a difference between one foe and the other._

Caitlyn stopped the car. Mira's full powers. The big mystery she had never been told about. She always had the suspicion the Round Table was keeping things from her. Everybody was keeping things from her, even those she didn't think of. Even her vampires. She could hear Mira chuckle, even if she was not even sending this to her so-called master.

Gunfire in the distance and overhead, smoke, blood, fire, death. Caitlyn rested her forehead on her hands holding the steering wheel. Her eyes were burning, but she had no energy to cry.

_Tempt not a desperate man._ How was this fair? She couldn't just condemn everyone equally, right? That was how everybody did it and look where it had brought them. And what about the civilians? They had been in the crossfire enough.

Enrico's rant had stopped, but Caitlyn could see what Mira was seeing, just for a second: Alexander Anderson, Millennium's werewolf who was nicknamed Captain, in between an army of vampires and crusaders, firing blindly at each other in a panic they could not explain. Caitlyn felt it, too. There was the traitor, up high, in what seemed to be an argument with his sister. _Wrath makes him deaf._ Even if he came to his senses now, what was done could not be undone. The so-called warriors of God. _The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. Isn't that true, Enrico?_

Phrases ran through her mind, every one thrashing wildly, screaming for her attention. _There is no darkness but ignorance. _

_Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms._

_All's well that ends well._

_The course of true love never did run smooth._

_Can one desire too much of a good thing? _

_True is it that we have seen better days._

Mira's voice had become more demanding. Lady Hellsing. Give me your orders, Master!

Caitlyn thought of Emily, who had already suffered so much. First she had been kidnapped and brainwashed, then she lost her legs to the vampire countess, and now she was stuck in this living hell. She was ten years old. Caitlyn thought of Daniel and the other survivors, who had not had a clue about Section 13 or Millennium or even what the hell was going on in their own country. But they tried to make the best of it. They kept on fighting. None of them deserved this.

Only the Major did. He was a psychopath and had never left a doubt about what his final goal was. But even the Vatican had betrayed her. No. Enrico had betrayed her. That hurt more than it should.

Caitlyn knew Mira heard all of this. She had known about Caitlyn's feelings all along, just another player in this game of death and power and madness, shoving her around like a chess piece. What did it matter?

The Major wanted his war. He had his war. Enrico had his crusade. And Caitlyn had Mira and Walter. It was her time to act, belated as it was.

_Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself._

She could hear Mira laughing in expectation. Caitlyn knew these words might haunt her for the rest of her life, maybe even after that, whatever would come out of it. "Do whatever is necessary. Search and destroy."

* * *

Mira laughed out loud when she finally heard Caitlyn give in. The girl was weaker than she would like, but so far, she had put up considerably well.

"The Bird of Hermes is my name," she said. Alexandru, her wonderful Alexandru, was the first to attack. The bayonets ripped her body to shreds, but she just disappeared and her essence flowed back into shape somewhere else. He could feel it, she knew that. Not much longer and they could finally find out if man really triumphed over monster. What a fitting end would it be to be to perish at the hands of the man she once loved?

"Eating my wings..."

The Captain attacked, a kick that split her body in half, before an explosive bullet hit him and he retreated. In the Blackbird, the sigil on her loyal coffin began to glow.

_Control Art Restriction System._

Now everybody was hell-bent on destroying her before it was too late. The fools. Crusaders and vampires began to fire blindly. Smoke tainted the air as the two sides mowed each other down. Like this, she almost had to do nothing else than stay out of the way. But where was the fun in that?

"...to make me tame!"

She thought to hear the Major's voice, up there on his zeppelin. "Ze dead vill dance, and all of hell shall sing." How right he was. Millennium's soldiers froze, a second before they were shredded by hundreds of cards. She had always known this pitiful, entertaining man would prove to be useful someday. His abilities were extraordinary, after all. Just like the cruel, childish huntress. Her bullets could easily turn a helicopter to shreds.

_Level 0._

Her enemies were now crawling on the floor, no more human than their victims. Her loyal men, her subjects and soldiers in full armor, spears, swords, horses. Clad in shadows and death, the wave flooded the streets, crashed against Big Ben, rolled over panicked vampires and terrified crusaders desperately trying to hold their battle line. It crushed everyone who stood in the way and could not fight back in time.

The principality's army of Walachia. The Janissary army. The Turkish civilians. Brazil's specialized police unit. Millennium's best shots. They were all the same now, subjects to the vampire queen. Millions of lives. Taking in blood meant more than just energy. It was the currency of the soul. Take a man's blood, you take his essence in you. A life didn't mean anything. Death made everyone equal. And of those lives, Vladimira Draculea Tepes, the queen of vampires, had more than enough.

_Do you understand now, Alexandru? Do you understand why you could not defeat me, my love? Now you do, don't you? Now we are equals. Now we can fight to the end._

No heaven. No earth. The only thing that mattered was the fight. Death was all that mattered. Humans were so fragile. Just a fleeting shimmer, walking the surface of a cruel earth. Hundreds of them were born every day and died every day. Fight. Die. Trivialities. The world had lifted up its head for the absolute retribution.

_Are you enjoying this as much as I am, Major? And you, Walter?_ She got no answer from either of them, but that didn't matter. Mira felt her form flow, to her real shape, the princess that had not shown her face in more than a hundred years, in full armor, with wild hair and red, melancholic eyes. Caitlyn had thought she knew every facet of her servant, but she was just a arrogant, delusional human. One of the better humans, but still with all their amusing, wonderful flaws. Mira admired how long the girl had kept her innocence. She was weak and easy to influence, so wholly unlike Abigail, who had once tamed her. And yet, Mira had greatly enjoyed serving her.

She, Lady Dracula.

_Released._

* * *

_Graf Zeppelin III, September 22nd, 2am_

"God. Oh God, no." Heinkel fell to her knees. She wasn't sure how she had come from the hatch to this place. She just was. She felt hot blood seeping into her trousers.

Vicky's eyes flickered. She should be dead. She should be dead and feel no more pain. But she was not dead yet. She was living just long enough to rub the vampire bitch's victory in Heinkel's face. That was all she was. A prank. A cruel sign of victory, like an impaled head on the castle wall.

"Teacher," Vicky whispered. Her hand, the one that remained, flitted weakly about the ground, searching, feeling. Heinkel took it.

"I'm sorry, teacher." Vicky's voice was close to vanishing, but she seemed calm, even serene, despite what had been done to her. Heinkel couldn't see the full extent of her injuries, but it was enough to know Vicky was not going to make it, even if she would be rolled in the operation theater at this moment. One arm was gone, as was the left eye. Most of the blood came from a long gash from neck to waist, all the way through her body. It was a miracle she was still alive. A cruel prank of fate. Talking only made her die quicker. Maybe that was better. "I should have listened to you," Vicky went on. Something like a smile crept up on her lips. "I was such a bad student."

"Don't be silly," Heinkel said. Her voice was hoarse, on the edge of breaking. She was nobody that cried easily. She hadn't cried until a week after Chris' funeral, three weeks after she got to know he was dead. She had cried for her parents, once, and then just grieved silently. And she had never, never cried about what Wagner had done to her. But now she did. Because what had been taken from her had been her responsibility, and she had failed, and she hated herself for it. "We know where you got that from, right?"

Vicky actually laughed a bit. It turned into a cough spraying blood. "I s'pose."

"Vicky..." The shaking, blood-smeared hand touched her face, very softly. Heinkel held it there.

"Teacher, you're crying," Vicky whispered. She sounded like a little girl again, when they had first met four years ago, just less angry. Her own state was not enough to shake her, but Heinkel's tears were? What a cruel joke. Life was one big, cruel joke after all.

"Of course I am," Heinkel snapped. "Do you have any idea-" _what you mean to me, you silly girl?_ But Vicky smiled and put a finger to her lips. "No chick-flick moments." Heinkel managed something like a laugh and stroked her student's wet hair.  
"Teacher... does it... feel good to have your revenge?"

Heinkel hesitated. "Yes. It feels great."

Vicky looked like she would have nodded if she could. "Can you... fulfill mine, now that I can't?"

Heinkel held on to Vicky's hand a bit tighter. She could have prevented this. A simple misunderstanding had made this happen. Karma was such a bitch. "Darling, the vampires who killed your parents are dead. Iscariot destroyed them years ago. I thought you knew."

"Oh." Vicky closed her eyes for a moment and Heinkel almost thought she was gone. But then she looked at her again. "That's good." She shivered. It was going downhill fast. "Teacher..."

"Heinkel," she corrected. "You're a paladin now." The glow in Vicky's eye was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. A tear ran over her blood-smeared cheek and Heinkel gently wiped it away.

"Paladin Victoria Caine." Vicky's weak smile shone like a beacon in the dark.

"Thank you for being my teacher."

Heinkel's smile was shaky, but she did her best. For her. "Thank you for being my student."

Vicky blinked, very slowly. "See you in limbo."

"Say hi to the others from me."

Vicky's voice was fading quickly now. "Okay."

"I am so, so proud of you," Heinkel said, her voice breaking. But Vicky had heard her. She had to. Heinkel closed her eyes for a moment, Vicky's hand against her cheek, and when she opened them again, Paladin Victoria Caine was gone.

Heinkel buried her face in Vicky's coat and sobbed into the blood-soaked fabric. After all those years of being strong, she couldn't take it anymore. This was not right. Vicky shouldn't have been here. Her teacher should have protected her. That had been her duty.

"I'm so sorry, please forgive me." _We were both idiots, I suppose. I just taught you how to be a rogue. A real Iscariot. Limbo is not good enough for you, even if I never get to see you again._

She didn't know how long she sat there, in the cooling blood and metallic stink. But eventually, her grief turned into crimson rage. That vampire bitch was still out there. Iscariot did not leave things unfinished. Heinkel hated loose ends. She should never have gotten away in Minnesota. And now Vicky had paid for it.

Heinkel tenderly closed Vicky's eye and stroked her hair a last time before she picked up the lifeless body. Vicky was light, much lighter than expected. Her missing arm was gone, probably fallen off the ship. Heinkel walked back to the hatch with stiff, automatic movements. She jumped, landing on the first sublevel. She couldn't climb with Vicky in her arms, but that didn't stop her. Eventually, she reached the corridors and walked into the command center.

Everybody stared at her and for the first time, Heinkel saw her own reflection. Her clothes and face were smeared with blood, her eyes reddened and lifeless. Tears had left white streaks in the blood and dirt on her pale face. She looked like the survivor of a horrific accident. In her arms lay the remains of a body that had once been a young girl.

Angelo dropped the weapon he had just been reloading. "Dear God, what happened?"

"The bitch killed Vicky," Heinkel stated in a flat tone. "Can you take care she gets back home, so we can bury her properly?"

"O-of course." Heinkel nodded and gave the body to Angelo. The seasoned paladin had seen a lot, but nothing like he saw in The Wolf's eyes now. Some part of her had died tonight, and they could only hope there was something left of the woman she was. She clenched her fists, shaking as if she had a horrible fever. Heinkel turned around abruptly, but didn't go. Maybe she didn't know where to. Her gaze fell on the Dragunov SVD Ryan had brought. "Give me that!", she snapped at the young paladin.

He was too scared and puzzled to refuse. "Where are you going?"

"Finishing something I should have ended long ago." Heinkel stormed out. _I should have killed her the moment we first met._ The rifle over her shoulder, she jumped more than climbed down the rope ladder they had used. The cars were parked a few hundred meters away behind a few trees.

"Heinkel!" She wiped her face with one sleeve. That probably didn't make her looks any better. Who cared. She walked on.

A hand on her shoulder made her spin. It was Yumie. She was wearing a beige mercenary uniform from which she had removed the Hellsing crest. It fit her astoundingly well.

"Don't try to stop me!", Heinkel snapped and shook off her hand.

"Don't be ridiculous! I'm coming with you," Yumie said. Her voice was shaking, but her violet eyes flashed in rage. Heinkel nodded and the Chaos Girls ran to the cars. Heinkel jumped on the driver's seat. It was a good feeling to have Yumie by her side again.

"You sure you can fight?"

Yumie snorted. "Try to stop me!" Her hands clenched around her katana. "That bitch killed Nils and Vicky. We'll hunt her down. She won't get away."

The engine roared as they sped off, right in the heart of the fallen city. _Just wait for me, Zorin Blitz. I'm coming to get you. You will pay._

* * *

_City of London, September 22nd, 2.15 am_

"Lisa, get off!", Enrico growled, without even turning around. "I've got a crusade to lead."

"No, you don't! I never thought- It's like I don't know you anymore."

His green eyes were wild, but he laughed. "I can't believe it. Are you jealous? I thought better of you, Lisa. You shouldn't have come here. Now leave me alone."

"Yeah," she spat. Her eyes were blurred by tears. "Dragovic was right, I should have stayed. All I see here is madness. You're not my brother." She broke off, startled by her own words. She almost thought he was, too. But he only tried to shrug her off again. This gruesome, horrible laugh.

"Yes, die, you filthy heretics! Die like the bugs you are!"

"NO!" Lisa shrieked, without even wanting to. To hell with all of this! To hell with Millennium and the Major! To hell with Hellsing and this goddamn vampire! To hell with Iscariot and the whole Vatican! All she wanted was to go home to Canada. All she wanted was her brother back the way he had been. Funny, a bit silly, loyal, even overprotective, devoted, but not too much. She'd do anything to make that happen. Just make this megalomaniac disappear. She wrapped her arms around her brother's neck.

"Enrico, that's not you! Please! You know how sick this is! It's what Kenzy wanted to warn us about!" He grabbed her wrist and twisted it to the edge of breaking. Lisa yelped and let go, stumbling against the glass wall. Enrico had _never_ hurt her on purpose before.

"You're just a spoiled brat who wants attention!", she yelled. "What the hell is your problem? Power never made anyone happy. You have Iscariot, you have friends and a family, you have all the attention and admiration you need! What else?" She grabbed his sash and dragged him to the glass wall that he almost bumped his head. "Look at this, Enrico Maxwell! Look at it closely." Her voice almost broke. She was trembling so badly her hands almost slipped. "If this is what you want then you're not better than that psychopath in his airship!" At the end her voice had risen to a scream and ended in a loud bang. Enrico stumbled against the lectern, eyes wide, the imprint of his sister's hand reddening on his cheek.

Lisa broke down sobbing. All of a sudden her fear of heights hit her with full force. Her legs gave way under her. She was caught and buried her face in his shoulder. Enrico was shaking badly, just like her. He fell to his knees, holding Lisa so tight it almost hurt. When she looked up, she saw his eyes had finally cleared. The madness had left them. Now he was staring down at the battlefield, realization and horror on his face.

"Was that me?", he whispered. "Am I responsible for this?" Lisa didn't answer. She just wrapped her arms around him and cried all the tears she had held back the last weeks. He would have to face the consequences of this. But now she was just glad he was himself again. The pain in his voice was horrible, but it was also good. "God. Oh God, what have I done?"

"Shh." Lisa wiped her face and looked down. The battle had long since moved on, not caring what happened up here. And what Lisa saw made her blood freeze. Vladimira had returned and unleashed something horrible, more horrible than anything any human could have done. Dead souls. They were everywhere, crushing the battle lines and killing everything that got in their way.

_It's happening._ Lisa gasped. She knew what was happening now. She had seen it.

"Bishop Maxwell, the battle line was broken! We can't beat them! There're too many! Dear God!" The scream caused a shrill shrieking in the radio. Or maybe they were screaming like this. Another voice picked up. "Your Grace, I beg you, order retreat. They're slaughtering us! This is no longer a battle!"

Enrico tried to get to his feet and had trouble doing so at first. He was trembling so badly his hand slipped on the edge of the lectern. "Retreat!", he ordered. "We will regroup once the-" An explosion overhead and suddenly they were tumbling down. Lisa couldn't even scream. She would have needed to breathe for that and her lungs denied her this feature right now. The last bit of wind was knocked out of her when they hit the ground with a loud crash. The truck came to rest on its side, the class cube's wall now on the bottom. Black and red spots danced in front of her eyes. For a moment Lisa thought she might pass out, but she had a task to fulfill. She had to prevent what she had seen, whatever that took.

Her body hurt with every movement. She might have cracked a few ribs, but nothing so bad she was unable to act. Thank God. "Rico?", she murmured and immediately started to cough. It hurt, but then there was a snap and the pain vanished. God truly had to be on her side. It was the only way this could end well.

A groan not far from her. Lisa's vision cleared and she got into a sitting position. She gasped when she stared right into the face of a Turkish-looking undead without eyes, clawing at the glass. Enrico grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Lisa couldn't scream, but after another second she could breathe again. Enrico had a gash on his forehead. He looked pale and shaken, still a bit dizzy from the hit to the head, but otherwise seemed unharmed. The blood running over his face seemed to glow in the twilight. Lisa was glad she was not alone. The vampire queen's familiars were everywhere, men and women, even some children, in all sorts of different clothing. Tunics, Turkish robes, armor, the Brazilian police's uniforms, rags. Their eyes were only holes, bloody and glowing faintly violet.

"Are you alright?", Enrico asked her and stroked her cheek. Lisa cuddled into him. He didn't know the same as she did. But she was here now, maybe that was enough to change things.

"I'm okay. What about you?" She took his hand. The bandage had slipped off. The stitches had been removed a few days ago, but it still looked bad.

"I'm fine." He even attempted something like a smile. "Don't worry, that's hardened tektite glass. Not a chance in hell these monsters will get through that." They were not exactly the same, but Lisa cursed these words, praying that she was wrong. She had to be.

A bayonet dug into the glass, shattering the only protection they had against the army of familiars. Enrico pulled Lisa to her feet, a warm, relieved smile spreading on his face. "Anderson. Well, that was quick. Good job."

"Enrico." Anderson's voice wavered for a second, between pity, grief and righteous anger. "We are Section XIII, agents o' divine punishment. Ye quit serving God tae pursue the road tae yer own power." Enrico stared up at him, his relief turning into terror, and, what Lisa thought was the worst, resignation. In some way, Lisa realized, Enrico had known it would come to this, if only a few minutes, even seconds in advance. The army of dead souls was all around them. They had nowhere to go. It was over.

"Is this it, teacher?", Enrico said, his voice shaking, but calm. "Am I to die here?"

"Father Anderson, please," Lisa called, desperate to change what seemed to be already set in stone. "Things have changed! Don't, please, this is not right!" Enrico stroked her cheek and she spun, looking at him through a curtain of tears. "No..."

"Alexander," Enrico said. "I know I have to pay for what I did. Get Lisa out of here. She's in this because of me and that should never have happened in the first place. I've made a lot of mistakes, but don't make her pay for them. This is all on me."

"I'm not leaving you!" Lisa's voice broke.

He smiled, a sweet and tired smile, hugged her and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I don't deserve it, but keep me in good memory. I love you, little sister, even if that's the only thing worth remembering about me. Tell Mum and Dad I'm sorry. I should have been a better son after all they did for me." Lisa would have rather chopped off her own hands than to let go, but he pushed her away, and then a thick, muscular arm wrapped around her waist.

"Farewell, ma friend," Anderson said. He hesitated, then said: "Ah'm proud ye made this decision."

"Goodbye, teacher. And goodbye, Lisa." Lisa struggled with all she had, but Anderson didn't even flinch. "No, NO! I want to stay! Let go!" But she was already carried away in a flutter of bible pages and could not see her brother anymore. Lisa broke down in tears, just a beaten young girl in the arms of the mentor she had trusted, and who had now betrayed them.

* * *

Enrico followed them with his gaze until they had disappeared. Alexander was right. He deserved this. He didn't even want to think about what he did, but he had to face his crime. The memories were fuzzy, like a vanishing nightmare. If only it had been. One of Lisa's nightmares, where he could wake up and comfort her. Alexander shouldn't be proud of his decision to put Lisa's life over his own. It was the only right thing he could have done. As long as she was safe he could die in something resembling peace. Anderson would protect her and after a period of grief his family would move on, too. Suddenly, Enrico missed his parents a lot. Why had he never gone home in the last years? He had been an idiot, an ungrateful one at that.

Silver blinked in the fiery twilight, with a little green. The familiars were hovering in a circle around him, as if they were unsure if they should attack and end his life. He had no chance against them, no matter what. He would die here, all alone, like he had always feared and like he deserved. He had seemed all-powerful, godlike even, looking down on everybody, putting fear in the hearts of those who had despised and laughed at him. That all the victims had been heathens didn't excuse anything. Archbishop Enrico Maxwell had fallen and nobody was there with him. He would fade away alone, for better or worse, heaven or hell.

Enrico looked at the familiars drawing closer, not moving. Dead souls, robbed of their humanity by the dark power of the monster in the shape of a woman. Once this was over, she would draw them in again, and with them all the souls of those who had fallen in this city. Lisa had been shaking in his arms, terrified, but determined to stay with him to prevent what had happened anyway. And he had assured her.

"I'm not planning to die, little sister." Enrico leaped for the sword, half-expecting to be impaled by a spear or sword at any second. But that didn't happen. He somehow reached his weapon. When he touched it, pain shot through his body, like an electrical shock. The metal bordering striping the sheath began to spark, blue bolts of lightning running over the metal, from the green jewel that served as a pommel to the crossbar. Bordering and gemstones began to glow. What he felt was not just electricity, it was _power_. The weapon should have electrocuted him on the spot, but on the contrary, Enrico felt only a faint tingling.

The familiars jerked back as if struck by an invisible force. Enrico was glad he had thought of leaving the sheath on the belt he had worn two days ago. It took only a second to strap the weapon to his waist. The weight was reassuring despite his doubts about his own skills. Nevertheless, he had to get out of here if he wanted to survive. _After all, the dead can't correct their mistakes, right, teacher?_ Enrico drew the sword. The blade was shining brightly, reflecting the dark, fiery sky above, and a pale, bloodied face with frightened green eyes.

The familiars advanced again, and Enrico staggered back. If they reached him, they would simply overwhelm him, like an ocean wave a small boat. He would become just one more trophy on their stakes. Maybe his hands were shaking. So what? He was 27, not exactly an age to die.

But the sword seemed to have a mind of its own. It guided his hands where they needed to be. It was not cartoon-like, he was not being dragged around. Enrico had a vague feeling this was what real sword fight should be like. It felt good, although in reality it had to look more like a desperate thrusting than real skill.

The sword found its way through the bodies of two familiars that had come too close and Enrico, still retreating carefully backwards to somewhere he could make his escape from, tripped over a stone. Falling, he had only one thought: This is it. The familiars would add him to their war trophies, another broken, impaled body among many. His left wrist, with the bracelet Cristoforo had given him, brushed the sheath and he could feel the sword powering up. That was the best description he could give. Like the voltage had suddenly tripled. He tried to catch himself before he hit his head again. Hands were tugging at him from everywhere, tearing at his clothes, one painfully ripping out the hair tie including a few strands. The panic he had somehow managed to hold at bay, even forget, hit him hard. He was all alone, doomed to die here without anyone to comfort him, just like he had been born. But he wouldn't beg. He was a coward, but he wouldn't give in, despite tears of loneliness and fear burning in his eyes. He was an Iscariot and would die like one.

Horseshoes thundered towards him, spears ready in the hands of the riders. Enrico felt an electric shock, a sudden discharge that made his whole body tense. Blue electricity was running over the bordering until it looked like parallel miniature jet engines. It was emitting a quiet, but distinctive humming sound, like a starting airplane. All of that happened in only a second.

A blue wall of light unfolded and the rider collided with it like he had hit a brick wall. Enrico felt the impact pushing him back. The force flowed back into the barrier, throwing off the familiars, and then the light just disappeared like it had never been there. Enrico scrambled to his feet, his back hitting a wall. What had just happened?

_The sword is old, much older than we initially thought. This is not physics. That's something else. It's some kind of magic._ Cristoforo had been nervous, unsure how to describe it so he wouldn't seem like a traitor to their faith, but he had given the best description Enrico could think of.

If he could learn to point this shield or whatever it was... A hand grabbed his shoulder. He screamed and swung the sword a lot less professionally than he would have liked. The blade sliced the familiar in half.

"Enrico!" For a moment, he couldn't place the voice. It sounded familiar, but seemed way too misplaced to be real. Then he spotted the black sedan that had stopped behind the small army of vampire familiars. They didn't even turn around. The car and its driver seemed to be of no interest. Of course not. The vampire would never endanger her master. Caitlyn waved at him from the rolled-down driver's window. "Need a ride?"

"What-", he managed. The sword's almost-mind saved him again when a Turkish soldier leaped at him. They could have overwhelmed him by now, but somehow they didn't use their full range of abilities. The vampire from Brazil and the woman with the rifle where nowhere near either. He had more luck than he deserved. Again. "How can I trust you?"

She rolled her eyes. "How can I trust you after that stunt you pulled? You have exactly two options." She leaned over and opened the passenger door. "Get in or get eaten."

* * *

Okay, infos first! Draculea means something like son of the dragon in Romanian (because Vlad II. was part of the order of the Dragon... that's too much to explain now, I took my infos from Wikipedia). Tepes means "the impaler" (pronounced something like Tsepesh). So it's basically both a title.

_The man's undone forever; for if Enrico break not his neck in the combat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory.  
_It's actually Hector, from Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida. But nails it, right? (Otherwise, I won't list every quote.) Shakespeare's a good read, even today :)

I've got a question: I've been writing short stories to the Renegade AU all along (actually I started it with various scenes that wn't fit into the story anymore today xD). For example Caitlyn is super-afraid of centipedes (though that never came up in Renegade, I know. The scene I wanted to insert looked too forced, so I took it out again) and I wrote a one-page thingy about how that came to pass. Would anyone be interested in stuff like that? Only after Renegade is done, because there are spoilers, spoilers, spoilers (stuff that happens after the storyline is done).

* * *

Soooo... What do you think? Enrico gets a second chance. As much fun it is to write him as a crazy bastard, that's not everything. A good old-fashioned slap always does the trick. (In this case. Please don't go around slapping people you don't like, as satisfying as it might be.)

I already hinted at the power of the weapon, but what do you think? I hope the description was sufficient. I thought of a barrier with little hexagrams or something like in let's say Avengers or Agents of SHIELD. Pretty powerful weapon in the hands of a man pulled off the edge of insanity. (But don't worry, he's a good guy now... right?)

Jay: You already guessed it. When I read your message I was like: Damn, is it that easy to figure out? (I just didn't want to say anything.)

I knew Vicky would die when I started the story, I knew what they were going to say, so this was (from a technical point) easy to write. But from an emotional point of view this was hard as fuck. T_T Look at how much Heinkel suffered in her life. I'm a cruel person.


	26. Saints in Hell

Alright, I thought "Screw it, upload all finished chapters!" I want you to know and I want your feedback! (Since I'm getting so many awesome suggestions.) And it has also to do with the fact I'm uploading on dA and have to add the links in every chapter, so iit's less work for my if I do two at once xD

It was good I had two chapters in spare the last week, because I had to change datas and places like five times (very annoying). Sorry if there are more spelling mistakes than usual (and we'll see if the next chapter is due next Monday. I doubt it.)

* * *

**Chapter 25: Saints in Hell**

_St. Paul's cathedral, London, September 22nd, 2016, 2.45 am_

Mira sat on the remains of a wall, the armor rattling whenever her dangling legs hit the stone. Up there, the Major surely enjoyed the show. Walter was having fun, too, she assumed. He would finally get his revenge on the werewolf he hated so much. He hadn't answered her since she came back and that somewhat offended her, but he surely had his reasons. She had other things to mind right now.

Alexandru would come to her soon. She could feel it. Finally, everything was about to get resolved. Sir Arthur, and Abigail for sure, would have expected her to attend upon him, but Caitlyn was running around here somewhere and didn't give a damn about tradition again. She was refreshing in her refusal to abide to the old rules, that much was sure. Why else would she even rescue the enemy leader, who had betrayed her not more than a few minutes ago? But of course, she had her own reasons. The dead had the privilege not to mourn. Otherwise, Mira would have pitied her master. She would only get hurt again. Love was a cruel business, without pity, and full of pain and remorse. But the prize was just too tempting, no matter the scars you got on the way. So the humans recovered and started all over again. It was a lot like war.

Mira drew her sword, now in the perfect proportion to her adult shape. Mircea. If he would have been shocked? Her father? Alexandru? Her army was crawling, waves rushing over those who could not save themselves in time.

The Ninth Crusade. Millennium. Hellsing. Greed, hate, fear, revenge, justice, love, everything became a blur in a war. All these players, in one big scheme. "Isn't that right, Major?" Mira giggled. A giant sacrifice. All of this, just to make her release all the lives she took in her five hundred years, send them into battle, and make her stand alone. She smiled, resting her chin on one knee. Now, would he come to her? Her love from so many years ago was right here, even if he didn't know.

"What will you do, my beloved enemy? I am all alone here. The countess is alone in her castle, just in this night. Don't you want to keep me company? This is your only chance. Come to me, my dear." Mira closed her eyes.

_"I'll bring the children to Stanislav and then get you. We can ride together."_

_"I'll only slow you down."_

_"I will not leave you behind." _

_"I love you."_

She should never have taken his soft gaze for agreement. Everything that happened was her fault. "Why did you not wait for me?"

A rustling of paper, the clanging of metal. Mira raised her sword and met the green eyes she knew so well. Mircea clashed with his bayonet and Alexander Anderson was thrown back, landing on his feet.

"Finally," Mira said softly. "I was waiting for you."

The paladin stared at her with those wild green eyes. He drew his bayonets and formed a cross. "We are God's representatives, earthly agents of divine punishment. Oor mission is tae destroy doon tae the last wee bit thae fools wha' would oppose oor God."

Mira smiled. "I can hardly wait, my dear. And I love that accent of yours." Alexandru, no, his name was Alexander, looked at her for a moment without saying anything. He didn't know what she meant, and that confused and angered him. Mira would have liked to explain it, but the dead didn't do that. The dead didn't lie. They didn't speak.

Alexander let out a battle cry and lunged at her, his bayonet high above his head. Mira raised her sword and the blades clashed, again and again. Finally they were her. Finally they were together again. She could almost thank the Major for this opportunity.

She parred, slashed, hit him a few times. He hissed in pain and attacked again, and again. They were dancing, once again, for the last time. The dance of war. Back then he couldn't dance anymore, his leg had been crippled by a battle wound, but here they were again. It was beautiful. His foot hit the armor covering her belly and she staggered back, the tip of her sword slicing across his cheek. Such a blow had given him that scar, a while ago. Five hundred years ago. Had it been the same incident? Mira would have liked to know. She would have liked to know a lot of things about this man. She would have liked to do quite a few more things with him. Alexandru bit back a growl and wiped off the blood. The wound closed, but his scar remained as it had been.

A blade pierced her armor and Mira yelped in surprise. The pain was sharp, even to a powerful being like her. She was getting distracted. She had already had that problem when she was sparring with her husband. Mira looked at him and he stared back, determination and righteous anger in his green eyes. Vampires didn't feel. She had lived without real feelings for hundreds of years and now this? All she had done was killing for the enjoyment of it. A hundred years ago she had thought she had found... something. But that was not true. Now that she was feeling this, she realized back then it had been greed, the only feeling that ever drove her to anything. A part of her was waking up, a part she thought had been dead for half a millennium.

Alexandru let her get to her feet again. It was not a real duel if she was down so fast.

"Rival," she said, spreading her arms in an invitation. "Come kill me! Come pierce my heart with those bayonets!"_ And give me the peace my greed made me reject so long ago. Let us be reunited._ "Put an end to my nightmare, beloved mortal foe!"

Alexandru drew his bayonet. "Ye need nae even say it!" Mira raised her sword. This would not do, she thought as he leaped at her, a whole dozen of bayonets flashing through the air. Mira felt her form flow and the Romanian princess grew weaker within her. She was still there, but quiet and scared. She was very young, after all. Just... human. She wanted the rest death would bring, real death. Some part of her wanted it badly. But she had to earn the right to die, just like Alexandru had to earn the right to kill her.

The blades shattered in the air. Losing their momentum, the splinters of bayonets clattered to the ground. Alexandru stared at her and shielding his eyes with one hand. The weight in Mira's hand was perfectly balanced. She grinned. "Pure macedonium silver casings, mercury-tipped, marvells chemical cartridge N.N.A.9. 39cm long, 16kg, 13mm armor-piercing explosive rounds. The Jackal." She laughed Alexandru in the face, sending her words on a telepathic level as well. "It's perfect, Walter!" She got no answer, which annoyed her a bit. Her own confused feelings were one thing. The fact that she was feeling at all. Was Walter trying to annoy her? Well, he certainly managed that.

Alexandru ran at her again. He took the bullets from the Casull without flinching, just shielding his face, then swung the bayonets at her. Mira leaped out of the way and pulled the trigger of the Jackal. The bullet hit him right above the elbow and tore away a huge chunk of flesh. Alexandru almost fell to his knees, gasping in pain. For some reason, it hurt Mira to see him in so much pain, especially since she had brought it onto him.

Alexandru straightened up and slashed at her, only hitting two eyeless familiars groping for him. Mira jumped, floating easily like she was walking backwards over their heads, and landed on the other side. Alexandru fell to his knees. Between him and his target lay an army of dead, civilians, soldiers, men, women. It would have been really boring otherwise.

A bullet left a stream of blue light. It hit Alexandru in the chest, piercing his body from left to right, but missing his heart. He was thrown into the air, where cards sliced through him. Blood splashed. Mira held up her hand and it flowed to her, pooling in her palm, before it could mingle with the stream. It was way too good for that. The vampire queen licked it off. Just as sweet as his scent. So familiar, so special. Like a bright summer day, but a thunderstorm threatening in the distance.

"What's wrong, Christian?", she asked. "What will you do? Your monster is right here, Catholic. Will you defeat it?" The princess was just human. She was a young girl, with no family left but her husband, the first to ever treat her good since her brothers left her. She was scared. "What are your chances? One in a million? A billion, maybe?" She had slept very long. And now she saw her husband, who had been the one to give her the reassurance she needed. And the princess started fighting. She was screaming, thrashing, trying to get out. She wanted to run to him and help the man she loved. She didn't understand that she was dead and he was not the one she thought he was.

Dark blood was running from his mouth as he knelt there, bleeding, steam rising in the cool autumn air, his voice rough. Yet he tried to grin. "Even if it was jus' ae star in the sky, Mira, it'd be mair than enough fae me!" She winced as if he had hit her when she heard that name. The princess was dead. She was Alucard, servant of the Hellsing family. Just a killing machine.

"How are you, regenerator?", she mocked him. "Covered in wounds. Your arm's about to fall off. What are you going to do? Are you a dog? Or a human?" The vampire stared at him in awe when he got up. He had a bayonet in each hand and grabbed his torn arm with his teeth.

"So whit aboot it, vampire? Ma arm's just ae bit torn up, thas a'. Quit yer blasted boasting and come at me!" A smile crept on her face.

"Humans are really magnificent," she said softly. "Come to me, my dear." And he did. He ran forward, forward, forward. He cut through the familiars like wheat. The bayonets sliced, slashed, buried into bodies. Hands tore at him, he got pricked by spears, bled, and still advanced. To the rear of the formation, where the commander was waiting. Mira watched him, fascinated. That was some man. Even more reckless than her husband had been, so strong and wild. Almost like...

_Abigail._ An old Lady of War, like Mira had been, withered and just a simple human. She had defeated the vampire, totally, but she had chosen not to kill her. That would have been too good.

"Come to me, Alexander Anderson." Mira wasn't aware she was saying these words aloud. "Come to me and end my nightmare." A chain full of bayonets, tearing through the army. What a man indeed. The princess grew calmer again, seeing he was more or less fine. He was in pain, screaming his agony into the sky, but he was still fighting. This was how it should be.

"Dinnae get I ma way!" Mira smiled. The cavalry was thundering towards him. The last obstacle. If he could survive that, he could fight her. The spears would impale him, maybe not. She would see.

Then the first rider collapsed as a silver dagger burrowed into his head. Alexander Anderson spun.  
"Ye stupid...", he growled. Then something like a smile appeared on his face. "Well, well. O' all people, it's got tae be you." Mira shook her head, smiling. Love, duty, family, it meant so much to these fragile creatures. It took them beyond any border of reason.

Alexander looked at the paladins and shrugged. "Ah'm surprised ye want tae help me efter a', Lisa."

* * *

_London Bridge, September 22nd, 2.30 am_

"No, it's alright, we'll be there. We've got something else to finish first." Yumie put away the radio and looked over to Heinkel. Her friend was gripping the steering wheel tight enough to make her knuckles white. She had taken off the blood-stained gloves, but had wasted no time cleaning up her face. It was still smeared with dirt and Vicky's blood, where sweat and tears hadn't washed it clean. She was paler than ever.

Yumie's hand clenched around the katana. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. Enrico should be dead? His vehicle had crashed and he stayed behind, so Lisa could escape safely. That would fit him perfectly well, still it was hard to grasp. Lisa had sworn to protect him, Yumiko, and Yumie in extension, knew that. But maybe that was just the logical result of his behavior. He had snapped, like everybody had expected it, more or less for years. Now they could only pray God would have mercy on him and see his mistakes as what they were: A cry for attention from a hurt and frightened child. Yumie closed her eyes and tried to get her shaking body under control. She could feel Yumiko weeping for their friends, so hard she felt tears in her own eyes. But she had no time to cry now. They would avenge Vicky, and then everyone who had fallen in this crusade by winning the battle. They had to. If even Enrico hadn't made it out, the person least likely to fall in this war, their chances were slim. Anderson had ordered everyone to retreat and regroup until he gave different orders.

They reached the new London Bridge. Normally it would have been lit by colorful lights. It was a miracle it still stood. Maybe it would just crumble and throw them all in the Thames. It was worth the risk. If God was on their side, they'd make it. Somewhere there, on the other side, Anderson would soon confront that vampire bitch, Vladimira, the worst enemy they had ever faced. Everywhere were those familiars. They were not even devouring the enemies like ghouls did, just killing them. The Chaos Girls drove through a forest of impaled corpses. Heinkel was stubbornly staring ahead, not showing any sign of shock or even recognition, just grief and anger. But even Yumie was disturbed by this. Everybody knew a vampire could absorb the souls of his victims as long as he didn't turn them, but she had never seen such destruction, so many... dead souls. If she wouldn't know better she would not have believed a single vampire could be the cause of this. She did her best to keep everything far away from Yumiko, but she still felt what her guardian did, to a certain extent at least. It scared her. Although she knew she was being silly, she almost expected to see Enrico somewhere there, and that thought _did_ reach Yumiko. She screamed, a sound that made Yumie wince physically, and started crying again. Yumie did her best, but it took her what felt like an eternity to get Yumiko to sleep. The pain in her belly made it extra-difficult. Only chance had prevented that Zorin's scythe sliced her open completely. The mercenaries had patched her up quite nicely and the different clothes were not bad either, but it still hurt. She would need a real doctor after this was over. But she had no time for that now.

A bayonet was sticking out of the ground as the drove past. Anderson would need their help soon. But first they would take care of Millennium's witch, that had mocked them, tortured their friends, and stolen something more important than a beast like her could ever grasp. Yumie knew very well how much that cross meant to Heinkel. It was her most valuable possession, more than her beloved guns, more than anything material she owned.

That damned zeppelin was hovering over the city in front of them. The Major was sitting up there, enjoying the show. That bastard. They would smash him to pieces, together with his whole battalion. Yumie would like to do that herself, so she could hear him scream. He probably wouldn't beg for mercy, that was not his style. Too bad, really. But either way, he would pay for what he did.

Heinkel brought the car to an abrupt halt. They had reached a dead end, where a house had caved in and spilled all over the street. Ghouls were everywhere, as well as the vampire's familiars.

Without a word, Heinkel got out, shouldering the Dragonov and climbing up the rubble. Yumie followed her, cursing at the pain. This might become a bigger problem than expected.

Yumie looked around. There, quite a bit away to the left she could see St. Paul's cathedral, still standing proud for the British heresy. Why didn't the Major burn this down instead of monuments like the Tower Bridge? To annoy the Vatican?

Heinkel laid down, bringing the Dragunov in a shooting position. However she had seen, or even sensed the presence of her target, the vampire was there, in the middle of familiars, slicing her way through. Somebody was kneeling right in front of her, seemingly untouched by the familiars, and not interested in them. _Wait a second..._ The vampire might hold off the familiars, but that was only because she was not done with her victim. It was a young woman in a black coat, her dark hair in a ponytail. Yumie jumped to her feet, grimacing.

"I'll leave her to you." Heinkel nodded absently, trying to find a way to hit the fast-moving vampire. "Where're you going?" Yumie didn't answer, but sprinted down the pile of rubble, drawing her katana. Maybe it was not too late yet. Enrico had died to save her. It was time to carry on his wish.

* * *

Zorin's scythe sliced through another familiar. The vampire had put on quite the show. Revealing everything she had. That was what the Major wanted, after all. Not that Zorin Blitz cared a great deal about that. The Major would have sacrificed her without so much as a "Thank you". Rip hadn't wanted to see that and look what it had brought her. Many of them didn't want to die and did anyway. But not her. The Major and the Battalion would be destroyed. So? Who cared? Zorin would go on alone. She was immortal, without her 'superior' she could just do what she wanted and have fun. Finally. Though this war was a lot of fun, she had to admit that.

The girl was weeping in front of her. She was not weak, but just like so many 'tough' fighters Zorin had already reduced to a whimpering pile of misery it had only needed as much as a touch. The first time she got one of the really important people though. But what was most interesting was the fact that her trauma was not distant and buried, but very recent. A few minutes, to be exact. Sure, there was the death of her parents, a guy called Joseph Drake, and a few quite unpleasant nightmares, but the real shock was not even old enough to have sunken in. It had taken Zorin less than a second to reach it, and the girl had broken down in tears. The death of her brother had left her nothing more than a lonely, frightened little girl. And now she was seeing it all over again, seeing her mentor betray the person she loved more than anything else in her life. She had seen it coming and couldn't do anything. Zorin had added a little spice by making her watch him actually die before Alexander Anderson carried her away, and letting him say all sorts of true, but quite mean things.

Now Zorin was searching for more entertaining memories. That girl's mind was a gold mine, with all the plans Iscariot had made, information next to nobody else could possess. The nightmares were especially interesting. Somebody with a talent like hers could have been a great addition to Millennium. Maybe, if the Dok survived, Zorin could start her own army. What a blow to see a good friend and paladin turned into a vampire! Speaking of which, she would have expected Heinkel to come after her. After she had a tragic goodbye with her cute little student, of course. Zorin wished she could have seen that. She would when the paladin came after her. She already had a few good ideas to spice the scene up a bit. Zorin pulled out the silver cross, careful not to touch it with her bare skin. It glistened softly in the light. Those Catholic choir boys had cost her two fingers, but one of their best agents, the other one's student and the sister of Iscariot's (now dead) leader seemed to be a fitting payback. Not to mention that kid Nils. They were all such a lovely big family. The girl was carrying the dagger she had gotten from that Drake guy. Maybe Zorin should keep that as a souvenir as well.

Something slammed into her. The bang reached her a moment later. Pain flared in her chest. The cross flew through the air and somebody caught it. Zorin almost dropped her scythe, staggering back, then spun and sliced through a familiar that tried to grab her. She coughed and tasted blood. The bullet had been so close to her heart as could be without actually killing her. And what was worse, the shock had broken her concentration and her payback number three was getting away. She was not weak. She would recover quickly from the loss of her beloved brother. Only temporarily, but just long enough to bring this 'crusade' to an end.

"Come on, Lisa, let's get out of here." Zorin swung her scythe, giving herself a little space in all the familiars. That voice! The whore should be long dead. She had sliced her in half! But there she was, in the clothing of a mercenary, helping up the little Miss Hamilton / Maxwell, who was already wiping away her tears.

"Well, hi, Yumie," Zorin said as casually as she managed while her blood seemed to be boiling. "I zought you were already in ze land of ze righteous. What did you call it? Limbo? I always zought zat was a dance."

Yumie paid no closer attention to her and that pissed Zorin off. She leaped at the paladin and her scythe clashed with the katana. Zorin hissed as the metal touched her bare skin. Yumie had used her free hand to push the silver cross right into Zorin's face. It had only scratched her cheek, but it hurt a lot more than a normal wound would. Suddenly, there was a flash of pain between her shoulders. That little fool! Zorin backhanded the attacker and Lisa flew backwards, right in the arms of a dead soldier. Zorin lost interest in her. Should she die at the hands of that so-called vampire queen's little helpers. Who cared? She had to face the Japanese God-whore with her stupid katana. No skirt to be her doom anymore. Too bad.

"So, you're here to get your revenge I suppose?", Zorin asked with a grin. "For whom in particular? Zat Swedish kid you liked so much? Your best friend's student? Tell me, I've got quite ze list to check."

Zorin was surprised the little berserker actually managed to stay calm. She wanted to attack, it was easy to see that. But she didn't. Zorin lashed out, her scythe cutting the air only centimeters from Lisa's neck. The girl stumbled back, but didn't attack. In her hand glistened silver daggers. Zorin took a step back. She didn't like this. She was a vampire, dammit! Millennium's best! But she felt cornered, like she had run right into a trap.  
"I'm right here!", she teased. "Or are you too afraid?"  
"You're not our kill," Yumie said, her voice strained. Zorin laughed out loud.

"Oh, really? Vell zen, how about zis?" Zorin slammed her hand down on the ground. She had thrown armies into chaos with this, she would not be beat down by three stupid girls. Pictures flooded her mind as she summoned the image she had used so often: A giant dragon. It might seem ridiculous, but she had managed to confuse her enemies with that often enough. Cedric had loved those stories. Her silly little brother, who had been ripped to pieces by a stray bomb with the rest of her family. 1943 had been an interesting year.

_A little girl peering through a crack between closet doors, clutching a gun that seemed as heavy as a brick. The sound as she pulled the trigger, the hissing of the vampires, the blood._

_Her mother chiding her and putting her into the room, with nobody but Yumie to keep her company._

_Seeing all she loved die, or become a monster. Seeing her parents die in the car while she somehow managed to crawl out. No other child bothering to talk to her in the orphanage._

_Her brother, pulling her along, his blond ponytail messy as ever. Their trip to Europe, when they traveled to Wales, then to Germany, and from there to Italy. His arms around her when she had to get all her courage together to step out on the balcony of their hotel room. The warmth when he told her: "I'm here with you."_

_She wiped blood off her face. Great, the chief would be so pissed at them. Her best friend only shrugged her shoulders. "Whatevs, let's go eat something. Maybe we should talk to Anderson first." She guided her out and then the guardian could sleep. Her partner took care of the rest. Best friends for life, the three of them._

_"Are you mad at me?" "No," he said and it even sounded like he meant it. "I don't want you to go, but in the end, it's your choice." He stroked her cheek. "The church should be glad you consider this. A girl so strong and pretty..." She slapped his hand away, blushing. "Don't!" He tickled her and she laughed, resting her head on his chest. "Thank you."_

This was wrong. She shouldn't see all of this. Those memories were not painful, they were pleasant. Good times in the circle of friends. This didn't-

Zorin hit the ground, her scythe slipping her fingers. What- She hissed in pain as something was pressed to her forehead. The silver smoked. She could only see boots and the ends of brown trousers. The vampire wanted to jump up again, or at least tear off one of those feet. She didn't feel her own legs anymore. Something slammed on the small of her back and she couldn't help a scream. That hurt! She was kicked and landed on her back.

"Of course. It had to be you," she snarled. Heinkel stared down at her and Zorin was unsure how to react to those dead gray-green eyes. Partially she was happy about her success. The paladin was in tremendous emotional pain, but for some reason that made her look scary. Millennium's best fighter, scared by a human girl. _Only she is not just a girl._ Zorin jerked her head around. That couldn't be. She had gotten rid of him seventy years ago.

_Cedric?_

_\- Seriously, you always had a problem with vanity, Jolene. And I thought more than half a century was enough to learn that. You are facing paladins. They are more than simple humans. And you managed to seriously piss them off._

Zorin groped for the paladin, got her ankle and poured her power into her. Violet light glowed brighter than the flames.

_"Don't make a sound. Please, Hannah." The little girl looked at her mother with big eyes. She hated dark, small places, had always hated them. Her Father gave her a pistol, a huge silver thing, that was way too big for her. For once, her mother didn't protest, and that scared Hannah more than anything. They both kissed her on the forehead and then her mother closed the closet door. A few minutes later the screams began._

A bullet hit Zorin in the chest, the pain snapping her out of the half-trance. What the heck...? The Desert Eagle spit out a casing.

"Nice try," Heinkel said flatly. "But that doesn't work on me anymore." Zorin shrieked in anger, trying to get to her feet, but the bullets must have hit an important bone or something. But she could still rip those bitches to pieces in less than ten seconds. Then a blade pinned her down.

"It's over," Yumie said. Zorin hissed and tried to free herself, despite the katana nailing her shoulder to the earth. The pain only made her even more angry.

The Desert Eagle was not wavering in the slightest. "You don't deserve a quick death after all you did," Heinkel said. Even Lisa was standing there. Her eyes were still reddened, but otherwise she seemed to be astoundingly calm.

"We're not like you," she said. Zorin started laughing, no matter how much it hurt.

"Are you pleading mercy for a vampire?", she gasped. "That's the best joke I've heard in years! Who are you, Mutter Theresa?"

"You will burn in hell. That is more than enough punishment," Heinkel said and smiled. Another bullet hit the vampire in the stomach. She growled, but stayed still. Just a moment. Lisa was the most vulnerable. She was not as reckless and had no guardian.

Something separated her illusion hand from the arm. Zorin shrieked in surprise, but she had not much time to think of bloody revenge. "We are not like you," she heard the paladin bitch say, she wasn't even sure which one. She heard a soft tinkle of metal. Of course. Heinkel wanted her precious cross back. Remnant of a man she loved, and who was now gone. Just like everyone Zorin had cared about was gone, for many, many years.

There was a voice she knew all too well. _About time. Where have you been, sister?_

She heard the Major, or maybe Schrödinger laugh._ I knew she vould be defeated. It vas inevitable. Just another stubborn little girl._ She wanted to protest. Nobody called her a little girl and was not punished! A shot rang out. Darkness, and then a bright light. She had forgotten how blissful light could be. How stunningly beautiful. Jolene could almost hear a dragon roar.

* * *

_Near Shakespeare's Globe, London, September 22nd, 3.30 am_

A man with bullet wounds all over his body limped along. He had a cross clutched in his hands. Then he collapsed. Enrico looked at the sword that had saved his life. The dead couldn't correct their mistakes. But even the living could not undo what had been done. He shouldn't be here. He would be sentenced to death anyway, quite right, too, though the reasons of the prosecutors would be entirely different. He would make the best out of this until then. It was the only thing left to do. That, and not dragging any of his friends into his mess.

He stole a short glance at Caitlyn. She was tired, and battered, and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He was tired of pretending he could ignore what he felt. It didn't make a difference anymore. Lisa had been right all along. She had been right with a lot of things, as usual.

"That's a fancy weapon you've got there," Caitlyn said. Enrico winced, startled out of his thoughts. "Your design, I suppose?" She looked at him for a second, then turned her gaze back to the road. They were creeping along, trying to find a way through roads blocked by rubble, familiars and ghouls.

Enrico brushed the green stone. The strange electricity was gone now, sealed somewhere in there. "Sort of." Caitlyn nodded and fell silent again. Enrico thought about saying something, but what was there to say? She hated him. He had known it would come to that from the beginning. He deserved it. So why did it bother him so much? Why did he so desperately wish for her forgiveness?

In the end, his voice was barely more than a mumble. "Lady Hellsing, why did you rescue me?" At first, he thought she hadn't heard him over the sound of the tires on rubble and human remains. But then she looked at him. Her surprise confused him.

"Why not?", she asked. She grabbed into the door and gave him a handkerchief.

"Thanks," he said quietly. His head hurt where he had hit it. He busied himself wiping off the blood while he tried to figure out an answer. "That... That opposes your goal."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow and swerved around a wrecked car in the middle of the street. "What goal?"

Was this a joke? Was she mocking him? "Winning the battle," he said a bit more sharply than intended. "Saving Britain." Realization struck only now. The fall must have given him a concussion. "Can I consider myself a captive now?"

Caitlyn blinked and looked at him for several seconds, her expression genuinely confused. "How do you get that idea?"

Enrico stared at her blankly for a second. He didn't even try to figure out what she was thinking. That woman would forever stay a mystery to him. "I'm the enemy leader," he said. "That is what I would do."

She blinked and a shadow seemed to fall over her eyes before she turned back to the road. "Ah," she said. "Of course. How good that I'm not you, then."

Enrico looked out of the window and tried to make any sense of her reaction. So he was no captive. But what then? Caitlyn stared at the road. It was obvious where they were headed: To the battlefield where Vladimira was awaiting her master. Alexander would probably be there as well. They would have been faster walking, but neither of them was able to cut through such a mass of enemies. The car was slow, but safe.

They stopped and Caitlyn killed the engine, opening her seat belt. They could hear explosions and gunshots. The Iscariot's last resort. It should not have come to this, but if they did, it was the only choice. Enrico could only pray Lisa and the Chaos Girls were alright. At least them.

Caitlyn leaned back. She was shaking badly. "I'm so sick of this," she said. Her voice was quivering with anger. "Enemies, treason, fighting, death, where's the fucking point? Damn it!" She slammed her hands on the dashboard and suppressed a sob. Then she laughed. It was a horrible sound and Enrico wondered what was wrong with him. Even in a moment like this, he saw how beautiful she was, through the blood and sweat and tears. He wanted to take her into his arms and make her stop crying. _You're a hopeless romantic. Without you, she wouldn't be in this state._

"I'm such an idiot," she murmured and he snapped to attention again. Caitlyn wiped her face with the sleeve of her blouse. "After all that happened. You... I..."

"You have every right to hate me," he said quietly. Caitlyn winced and looked at him with those frightened, tired, stunning blue eyes.

"I know. And you know what's funny? I don't. It doesn't make okay what you did, but I just can't hate you." She smiled at his flustered face. "Stupid, huh?" He lacked an answer to that. "_Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. _Doesn't the bible say that?" _Luke 6:37_, Enrico thought. Forgiveness was not exactly the greatest quality of the Vatican persecutors.

Caitlyn took the handkerchief. Her fingers were icy on his skin. "Someday you have to tell me what happened." He looked down at the scar running over his palm. Right. That.

"You go a long way for family." When he looked up again, they were barely an inch from each other. There was still a faint whiff of lavender to her hair. After all he did, what did a small sin matter? Enrico wanted to reach out, touch her hair or her cheek, anything like that would suffice. To make sure this was not a dream. Or a nightmare.

Caitlyn looked away, blushing slightly, and fell back into her seat. "True," she said curtly. "Now then, we should... make a plan or something. We can work together to defeat the Major, right?"

Enrico nodded slowly. Of course. She didn't hate him, and that was a relief for some reason, but it meant nothing. It was all part of his righteous punishment. He forced himself to concentrate on his task. The Major was out there and he was Caitlyn's primary concern. Alexander could take care of Vladimira, he had to believe in that. The other vampire was a wholly different matter, but he would have to see to this when it came up.

"This is between Catholics and Protestants." Caitlyn frowned at him. Enrico hadn't wanted to say it out loud, but now he had to run with it. "We eradicate Millennium. After that we can settle this age-old conflict once and for all." It was the last thing he would do in his life, so it should better be something good.

Caitlyn closed her eyes for a second and nodded. "I suppose that's what we have to do." The details were surprisingly easy to work out. She was sick of fighting, but she had no other choice. And Enrico was an experienced strategist after all. Now that he was in his right mind again even a good one. Eventually, they decided they had a good plan, or the closest thing they could have to a plan at all.

"There's a jacket on the back seat," Caitlyn said. "It should fit you." They looked at each other for a second, before she turned around and groped for it, giving Enrico a good view of her shapely body. Maybe it was right that he felt nothing but hopelessness. His whole life he had wished to be somebody... somebody important. Somebody people could not look down on. Somebody they would love and be proud of. And in that foolish quest he had forgotten he already had all of it. He was an incorrigible fool, and a coward. And God would punish him for that. The Lord hated cowards.

Caitlyn gave him the jacket. It was old, well-maintained. There was an embroidery in the collar. _A.H._

Enrico put it on. The sleeves were a bit short, but otherwise it fit him perfectly well, as far as he could tell in the cramped car. He opened the door. The familiars seemed to have no interest whatsoever in them, and even the ghouls were occupied with whatever was leading them away.

Enrico had his feet already on the ground when Caitlyn grabbed his arm and held him back. He turned around. "Hm?"

Caitlyn stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. Then she pulled him to her and pressed her lips onto his. Enrico froze, his eyes widening in shock. Caitlyn laid a hand in his neck. Her cold fingers sent a shiver down his spine. _What is one little sin more? I'm an Iscariot after all._ He pulled her closer and returned the kiss with all the passion he had tried to suppress. She tasted faintly of summer, of honey and that particular smell after it has rained. Enrico closed his eyes, feeling his own hammering heartbeat and her slender shape pressing against him. Her lips were soft and warm on his, shy at first, then more demanding. That was probably the best first kiss anyone ever had on this planet. For the first time in his life, Enrico regretted having taken his holy vow.

Eventually, they had to break off, unless they preferred to suffocate. Her hands slid down, stroking his neck and arms, until they lay in his palms, pale against his tan, cold in warm. Enrico could only look at her, the scarlet cheeks and nervous blue eyes. He had never felt that confused before, but that didn't stop a small smile creeping on his face. The only thing he would have been able to say was "Thank you", but the mere thought sounded colossally stupid, so he kept silent. Caitlyn stroked the scar on his hand with her thumb and let go. "The others need us." Her voice was just a whisper. Some part of him protested, but he didn't say anything. She was right. The Battle of London was not over.

Caitlyn opened the door and got out of the car. Enrico involuntarily licked his lips, searching for the remnants of her taste, trying to tell himself this had not been a once-in-a-lifetime-moment. He followed her, wishing they could go back. Caitlyn smiled at him and he hurried to catch up. She brushed his hand and quickened her steps. "Let's go." It had gone awfully quiet and that never meant anything good. Something horrible was about to happen, they could feel it.

But the only thing Enrico could think about was how good it had felt to kiss her, and if he would ever get the chance to do it again.

* * *

_St Paul's cathedral, London, September 22nd, 3am_

She should hate him. He had betrayed not only her, but the person who trusted him most, who had been his student, who admired him so much he followed his path. But she just couldn't hate him. She had seen it coming hours before and that hadn't changed a thing. As much as Lisa loved her brother, and missed him now, she couldn't hate Alexander Anderson. She was angry with him, yes, but he had a point. Enrico was dangerous. He had snapped once, it could happen again. Lisa didn't want to believe it. Not after seeing the horror on her brother's face. But the suddenly so fragile connection between them had scared her more than she wanted to admit.

Lisa overtook Heinkel and Yumie while they approached the battlefield and joined in with the rest of Anderson's group. Their order was to retreat, but they all knew that would not do. The others would join them soon, hopefully, when they arrived back from Hellsing mansion. Heinkel had her silver cross clutched tightly in her hand, and looked at it in a mixture of rage, grief, and so many other feelings it was impossible to discern anything. Then she put it in her pocket.

_Enrico, Vicky, who else?_

Hopefully they were in a better place now. Not in limbo, and certainly not in hell. The death of Millennium's 'witch' had been strange in its brutality. She had looked so peaceful shortly before the incendiary chip went off. What was death, anyway? A transition? Or the end? After all that happened, Lisa was not sure anymore what was better.

"I'm sorry," somebody said to her. She jumped. It was Mark, a young paladin with unruly dark hair and glasses. "About the chief." He looked away uncomfortably. "We will all honor his memory."

"Thank you," Lisa said absently. Enrico was dead, no doubt about it. Even with this sword, he could not have beat these masses of monsters. He was just not skilled enough. He was not the man to fight actual, physical battles. So why did something, like a really small voice from far away, tell her he was alive? She would have felt it if he died. Something in her would have died with him and it was still there, hurt, in agony, but alive and fighting.

Lisa shook her head and looked around. The group of paladins was awfully small, but they had no other choice. She pushed her way to the front, where Heinkel and Yumie stood. A flood of the vampire's familiars was blocking Anderson's way. He looked bad, much worse than when he had set her down in a spot he thought to be relatively safe, and told her to stay out of this. Of course, that was shortly before Lisa ran into Zorin Blitz, but he couldn't know that. His arm looked like it would fall off at any moment, and he was bleeding and tattered. Any other human would have already collapsed and died. That much damage might be too much even for him.

Anderson broke through the rows of familiars. It was incredible, and horrible. Nobody should be able to take this. It was against nature.

Vladimira was standing there, separated from him, with a smile on her face that seemed strangely affectionate. It was the kind of smile somebody would give to a long-lost friend. She raised her hands and horseshoes thundered. A cavalry rushed at the paladin, their spears ready. Not even Anderson would be able to take that. And he shouldn't.

Heinkel seemed to have read Lisa's thoughts. "Let's go!" The group rushed forward, Lisa at the front. Her first knife buried in a rider's head and he dissolved, completely with his horse. Anderson spun, his face contorting in rage. "Ye stupid...", he growled. Then he looked at her and smiled, recognition, regret and a ton of other emotions running over him in a second. "Well, well. O' all people, it's got tae be ye." Alexander looked at the paladins and shrugged. "Ah'm surprised ye want tae help me efter a', Lisa."

"We're Judas Iscariot," she said simply. "Do you really think we would back down and leave you alone? That's not our style."

Anderson laughed. "Well spoken."

"Should you cry amen and kill, the world will slip into its rightful place," Yumie said. "That was what you taught us, is it not?" Lisa didn't really agree with that, but that was not the time for such discussions. "Let us show them the wiles of the fanatic."

Anderson shrugged. "Ach, fine, come wi' me, like ayeways. Ah'm heading straight intae hell. Might as well have ae bit o' company."

And with that, the paladins charged at the mass of dead souls, while the countess was towering over them on a pile of rubble, a smile on her face, right in front of the church's silhouette. Lisa ducked under a Turkish woman's groping hands and sliced her neck with her silver dagger. The familiar dissolved and she ran on. It was a waste of time and energy to try to kill all of them. Anderson was creating a path behind him, just rushing forward, already far ahead of them. His eyes were fixed on the vampire standing there, her arms outstretched, smiling.

Lisa kicked at a familiar trying to grab her leg, but it managed to grab her and suddenly she was picked up and raised in the air. _Shit._ The groping hands were everywhere. She tried to free herself, but only succeeded in almost losing her daggers. She had a pistol strapped to her belt, but she couldn't even move an inch at her own account. The hollow eye sockets stared at her. Lisa kicked one in the face, making it stumble back and curled her body, her weight shifting, ripping off the hand of the soldier holding it. Her dagger buried in the head of the man and he collapsed before vanishing. This was a lot better than ghouls, in some way, she thought vaguely. Lisa hit the ground. The impact sent a bolt of pain through her spine. She barely managed to roll away when a sword came down next to her head. She had lost the group. On her own she would never get through this.

_I'm sorry, brother. Looks like I'm going to see you sooner than expected._

A Brazilian police officer held her down while the Walachian soldiers had their stakes ready to bury into her. That was exactly the end Enrico had faced. Her dreams had been virtually worthless, predicting the future or not. She had failed.

The soldiers' heads exploded and Lisa was pulled upright. Erik, Mark's best friend, who was secretly mocked for the pot-like cut of his blond hair, gave her the daggers and was gone before she could thank him. Lisa ran on, now not even really aiming anymore, but doing it like Anderson: Keeping the familiars away from her, clearing the path. She caught up to the group just as Erik stumbled, coughing. A spear had buried into his neck all the way from the front to the back. He stopped, the familiars surrounding him, almost building a pile.

"Here I go," he growled through blood running form his mouth. He ripped open the jacket and pulled the ring. "Amen." Lisa stared at him open-mouthed, forgetting where they were for a second. _That_ was their master plan? The last resort?_ Pretty effective, though,_ a mean little voice inside her said. Somebody pulled her on. Renaldo looked horribly tired, like all of them, but on a much more basic level. He had already seen too much in his life. Why was he here in the first place?

"He was done for anyway!", the old paladin growled, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Come on before we lose the group." The explosion ripped dozens of familiars to pieces. Lisa dodged a rider and managed to finish off the horse. The familiars were a bit less bad than ghouls. At least they didn't bite. But the sheer number was crushing. Mark experienced it first hand. He had lost his guns somewhere on the way and the stakes were already carried towards him.

"See you there!", he called. Lisa caught his eyes for a second. He had said they would honor Enrico's memory. From now on, Lisa would treasure his memory. What an irony.

"See you," she said, and the C4 went off, hitting her in the face with a hot wave. She gritted her teeth and ran on. Not paying closer attention to the enemies and who of the paladins fell in the process. That would only slow them down.

And suddenly, they knew Anderson had broken through. It was as if the familiars had stopped. They were just not interested in them anymore. They had fulfilled their purpose. Lisa almost bumped into Heinkel. They could kill them easily now, but that was not the point.

Anderson faced Vladimira. She had stepped off her throne of rubble and looked at him with this almost loving smile. There was more to this story, even if Anderson didn't know it himself.

_Ye're nae the only yin who has ae weapon that can kill completely._ Lisa winced and spun. Had that been Anderson? Nazi vampires, this army of familiars, even her dreams were a fact she could accept. But if she started to read other people's thoughts she would freak out. But it had been Anderson, for sure. His arm looked still really bad, but the fibers started to reconnect by now. He only needed a few more minutes.

Vladimira laughed, a crystal-like sound like a chime. It was disturbing. "So you broke through that siege and now stand before me. That is exactly what I expected from Iscariot." She honored them with a short glance. "From Alexandru-"

"Ma name's Alexander. Hou often do Ah have tae tell ye?", Anderson interrupted. The pain he was in made him short-tempered. If it wasn't that gruesome, it would have been funny.

The vampire laughed, but not as lightly as before. "Of course. Excuse me. You look a lot like an old friend, that's all."

Anderson grunted and pulled out a long wooden box wrapped in white fabric. When the covers slid off, they revealed letters burned into the wood.

_Section 3 Matthew_

The rest of the imprint was too small to be read from a distance, but Lisa knew what it said. _Top-secret holy relic administration bureau._

Horror struck her when she realized what was going on. Her dream in Scotland. She had been right all along. And she had no idea what she should do about it.

"That must be your trump card," Vladimira said, not bothering to hide her interest. _No. Don't._ Anderson shattered the wooden box with only one hand, revealing the artifact inside. Vladimira's face changed. Her smile dropped like she had been punched in the face. She growled, rage flashing in her eyes, so bright they felt it almost physically, but rage mixed with fear and even something like panic.

"A nail," she said slowly. Everybody just stared at them. The battle had stopped. Among the dead, the smoke and ruins, the zeppelin still threatening overhead, there was silence.

"The Holy Shroud, the Holy Grail, the Lance of Longinus. One of the last scattered and lost artifacts of Rome."

"Aye," Anderson confirmed.

Vladimira stared at the nail as if she hated its mere existence. Or maybe because she knew what was going to happen. And it would happen to someone she cared about. Her voice was just a whisper. "The Nail of Helena."

"Aye!" Anderson wanted to bury the nail right in his heart.

"STOP!" The vampire's voice turned to a terrified screech for a second. It managed to stop the paladin, at least for now. Lisa felt frozen, as if she was standing high up again, all alone. What could she do? She had seen what would happen if Anderson used that nail. It didn't bring anyone anything good. Too much power was harmful, he had said so himself.

"Do you know what that thing will do to you?", Vladimira snarled. "You will become one of God's monsters. Maintain your humanity. Don't succumb to power. Either side, it amounts to the same deal. Whether in the name of the divine or the demonic, you're still a monster in the end." She said something in Romanian, noticed her mistake and carried on in English. "Alexander." Her voice was very soft when she said this word, growing more desperate with every sentence. "Do you intend to use that scrap of miracle to become nothing but a scrap of miracle yourself? This duel between us. Would you really push it this far? Into the realms that lie beyond mortal life? A monster such as myself, a creature of such weakness that it could not bear the weight of a human life; if I am to be defeated, it must be by a human!" She looked at him with those red eyes. Suddenly, the vampire queen had lost her threatening aura. She just looked sad. For a moment, everybody, no matter how far away, could see the hurt soul that was buried behind cruelty and bloodshed, pleading to whatever she saw in Alexander Anderson. "Don't do it, Alexandru. Don't become a monster. A monster like me."

Anderson fell to his knees. Nobody moved. His arm was healing faster now. Had the pain overwhelmed him after all? Lisa hoped it had. As long as it stopped him. But Anderson looked up again and his face was stern.

"I want nothing more than tae be ae bayonet. Ae bayonet wielded by the hand o' God. Ah would've been happy to been born a storm, or a divine threat, ae mighty explosion or even ae terrible hurricane. A divine force of nature." The words, so familiar, managed to break Lisa's paralysis. Her gaze fell on Heinkel, standing at the left side. Lisa ran to her. Nobody paid attention. Heinkel actually winced when Lisa shook her. "We have to stop him."

"What?"

"We have to stop him!", Lisa repeated. "The vampire's right, this won't end good." Heinkel looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Without ae heart, or pity," said Anderson. "And if this relic could transform me in such a thing, Ah'm happy tae abandon ma humanity."

"No," Vladimira said very quietly, in the tiny voice of a terrified child.

Alexander Anderson raised the nail.

* * *

...I'm not sorry. I like cliffhangers, especially because I know what happens next :) Feedback?

It's actually St. Paul's, you can see it in the manga. At first I thought it might be Kensington Temple, but the fanart I saw got that wrong. Hirano is pretty indistinct with his locations and I'm not sure if he knows where what is in London. Seriously.

A fun fact I came across while deciding which bridge the girls should use: The Tower Bridge is not London Bridge (though google somewhat confuses that). Also, Tower Bridge is named like that for the Tower of London, not because it happens to have _two towers of its own_. Wtf, Britain?

Mira has a bit of a split personality problem, I think. The flashback is a short version of "The countess' dream". I was lazy. Don't judge me. Aside of that, when the heck did this go in the direction of AxAA?! (Weeks ago, I know. I don't even ship it. Just... here. For reasons. WTF?) Sorry if her attitude seems inconsistent, but I suppose that is just what she is like. She doesn't know herself what she wants and feels.

Okay, Jolene / Zorin's end was much more peaceful than I planned. I mean, she's the big baddie in these chapters. But halfway through, Cedric came into the picture and I pitied her. I wrote a story about how she and Rip became the people they were and it's pretty tragic (I want to translate it once Renegade is done, but that will take a while). So she kinda deserves the peace. Also, Stoker wrote the vampires internally long for that, right?

I was waiting for the Enrico / Caitlyn scene for an ETERNITY. I had prepared parts of the dialogue months in school. I swear to God, writing those five sentences about the kiss took me almost half an hour. I wanted to make it as perfect as it is for them. Caitlyn and Enrico are the main characters and their "love story" is one of the major themes. And you know what? They have about three scenes where they appear together in more than 250 pages of story. Talk about long distance relationship. Do I have to tell you I loved writing this?


	27. Special: Little Monsters

Hey, guys! I'm so sorry for not uploading for so long. I'm neck-deep in writer's block and also don't have an awful lot of time. So far, I've onlymanaged to correct a few continuity mistakes in the story that came up when the later chapters developed differently than intended. Someday I'll have to revamp the whole thing, but for now it's just the prologue.

Anyway, I know it never came up in the story so far, but Caitlyn is deadly afraid of centipedes. And I made up a little story that explains why. It's not as good as a new chapter, but I feel bad for letting you wait. I would have chosen a longer one shot as interlude, but most others contain spoilers over spoilers xD

I'll try to get on with the story, promise. Until then I hope you enjoy this little idea.

* * *

_St. Joseph's orphanage, 2002_

"Hey, you!" Caitlyn looked up from the book she had been reading. For once it was not her beloved Shakespeare compilation, but the book "Lord of the Flies". She was sitting on the floor in the empty playroom. The other kids were outside.

David and Charlotte looked down on her. They were siblings, eleven and twelve years old, both with wild brown hair and round faces. They were really mean. They had hit a ten-year-old named Marie, who broke her ankle while trying to run away. Caitlyn had tried to stay away from them since they came here about a month ago. Their parents had dropped them off here. She looked around, but there was no one else who could help her, or at least call one of the Josephs or Josies. Charlotte grinned. She had her hands behind her back and Caitlyn was scared.

"Yes?", she asked politely.

"Yes?", David mimicked her with a sneer and ripped the book out of her hands. Caitlyn didn't jump after it, she just sat there and looked at him. He frowned. "What are you looking at? Charlie, I don't like her, let's play a prank."

And just like that he pushed her, so she fell on her belly. Caitlyn tried to stand up, but David held her down and turned her around. He was a lot stronger than her and Caitlyn had no chance, no matter how much she struggled. Charlotte got out a glass jar. There were centipedes running around in it. Caitlyn squirmed, but wasn't sure if she should scream yet. Miss Evangeline had already yelled at her today because Caitlyn had asked a question too often.

"Scream and I drop one into your mouth," Charlotte said. Then she shoved Caitlyn's shirt up and opened the jar. One after the other, she sat the crawling insects on the trembling girl's body and limbs. Caitlyn was crying, silently, desperate to keep her mouth closed. She only got out a desperate whimper. The insects were crawling over her with their tiny feet. She got goosebumps, and sometimes one of the tiny creatures pecked her. She flinched, but it didn't help her. Charlotte and David just laughed.

"You know what insects are for? They eat shit!", Charlotte said. "You're nothing but a piece of shit! Nobody likes you!" She grabbed into the jar and pulled out a really big centipede and set it on Caitlyn's bare stomach. The girl froze, barely daring to move. David could have let go of her and she hadn't moved. The centipede slowly made its way across her skin. Then it bit down.

Caitlyn shrieked and jumped up. Her panic made her strong enough to shake off David. She began to throw away the centipedes in panic, the big one hitting the floor with a _thud._

"Leave me alone!", she cried. "What do you want from me?" She wanted to run away, but David grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back until Caitlyn screamed in pain. He was a big boy and only needed one arm to hold her. The free hand he used to grab her jaw. Charlotte in the meanwhile picked up the biggest centipede and held it by the end of its body.

"Open her mouth," she said to her brother. She giggled. "Okay, if you eat that, we let you go."

Caitlyn pressed her lips together and shook her head. Her vision was blurred by tears. She wanted to fight back and run, but her shoulders hurt so much...

"Let me go," she whimpered. "Please."

Charlotte stopped in front of her and raised the centipede right over Caitlyn's upturned face. "David, make her!" The boy's fingers dug into Caitlyn's jaw, but she gritted her teeth and fought back. David pulled her arms harder and Caitlyn screamed again. He held her mouth open while his sister lowered the centipede.

Caitlyn whimpered. The front legs were already tickling her lower lip.

"What is going on here?!" Miss Evangeline went ashen with disgust and horror. "David, Charlotte, what are you doing? Let her go immediately!"

The siblings sighed as if that was only a slight annoyance. Charlotte dropped the centipede right into Caitlyn's shirt. She could feel it sliding down, while its many legs tried to find something to hold on to. David let her go a second later and Caitlyn ripped the shirt off, throwing the insect away. Now she was standing in the playroom with he flat chest bare, all other kids watching what the fuss was about. The siblings laughed. They stopped when Mr. Jordan, the director, grabbed them by their ears and dragged them out. The protested, calling it abuse and other big words, but it didn't help them. Miss Evangeline sent all the other kids away with the usual harshness. Then she collected all the centipedes and screwed the lid on the jar again.

Caitlyn hugged her shirt, crying, but somehow managed to gather up the book the other kids had thrown away. She was shivering as if she had a bad cold. "Sorry that it's so ripped," she said and tried to smooth the crumpled pages. She flinched when Miss Evangeline picked her up. She was an old lady, slender, with a sharp face and voice, quick to punish anyone breaking the rules. And she was a lot stronger than she looked.

"It's alright, Caitlyn," she said in a tone softer than Caitlyn had ever heard from her. "They won't hurt you anymore. Don't you want to put on that shirt again? It's cold."

Caitlyn shook her head, her pale lips pressed tightly together. Miss Evangeline sighed and carried her back to her dormitory, where she picked out a different shirt for Caitlyn, before she brought the girl into the kitchen to make her a sweet tea.

"Do you want to tell Mr. Jordan what happened?" Again, Caitlyn shook her head. In the end, it took her two full weeks to say another word after David and Charlotte had left the orphanage, burying in books even more than usual. And she never, ever went near a centipede again.


	28. Beloved Enemy

OMG I'M BACK! So sorry for keeping you waiting at such a point, but I had a bad case of new project (which I've put on hiatus now because I _want to finish this story_) and in general not a whole lot of time.

I've been feeling like talking to myself for a while, but what do I expect, being so inactive. (Reviews, please?)

I'm not sure how regularly I'll be able to update, but when I'm back in the flow it shouldn't be a problem. So here you go. The final face-off between Mira and Alexander.

* * *

**Chapter 26: Beloved enemy**

_St. Paul's cathedral, September 22nd, 2016, 3.50 am_

Alexander hesitated. He didn't want to admit it, but he was not completely ready yet. His arm was healing faster now and the pain faded with the damage. But nevertheless, he had no choice.

"Alexander, I'm begging you-", Vladimira said.

"Stop wailing, thas ae disgrace, even fae ae vampire like yerself," Anderson growled.

The vampire was _begging_ him? That got to be a joke. After all this, he had come so far, and now she was pleading for her life. Beating her would be child's play if she was already that afraid. Behind the big posture she seemed to be just the coward she had called herself. What a disappointment. Anderson snarled, but less disgusted than he had intended to. Mira seemed more pitiful than anything else now. Just a low creature he had to kill off, if the most powerful he had ever met.

He gripped the nail a bit tighter. He would become God's monster, alright, for however long he could bear this power. And after that... it didn't matter. He had to beat her. For the sake of their Church. This was his only chance. He would not back down again. This was his purpose. This was the reason he had gone through all the pain to become a regenerator. Kenzy would be proud.

"We have come tha' faur," he said to Vladimira. "And we'll end it today." Now. Just a pierce and he would fulfill his purpose. Pity, regret, it all didn't matter. He raised the nail a bit higher.

It shattered in his hand, splinters digging into his skin and then raining down, sparkling crimson. Silence fell after the gunshot. Time stopped, for one painfully long heartbeat. Then everybody spun, a collective gasp echoing in the street.

"What the heck...?", somebody murmured.

"I swear to God, if this backfires, you're going down with me," said another voice he knew perfectly well. Alexander turned around very slowly. Maybe he had not yet realized what had happened. The last splinters rained from his hand, the shards blinking beautifully in the dying lights. But he saw very clearly how nervous Heinkel looked as she lowered the gun, and the relieved smile that spread on the damned vampire's face.

Their strongest weapon had just been shattered to pieces. Maybe their only chance of beating this demon. Anderson turned to the girls. Both looked very pale. Heinkel looked horrible, to be exact, blood all over her, and an emptiness in her eyes he did not like. But it didn't excuse what she had just done. Everything he had fought for, destroyed by one foolish girl.

"It was my idea," Lisa blurted out. She wanted to take a step forward, but didn't dare to. "I- I- It would have been wrong. You can't-" She broke off, very pale. Anderson gritted his teeth. His whole body was trembling. His injured arm was forgotten.

How could they?! He had the irrational urge to spank them like little children. At least that was better than the sudden impulse to kill these little beasts. It were only the girls he knew since they were little. His family. _That didn't stop you from killing Maxwell._ He winced at the stab of guilt. Maybe he had been too spiteful. Too blind with anger. Either way, it was too late.

"Alexander!" Another loud rustle as everybody turned in another direction, gasps, and single phrases.

"But that is..."

"I thought he's..."

"Could it be..."

"He would never..."

"Enrico," Alexander said slowly. That could not be. _What did I do wrong to be punished with this task twice?_ The paladin closed his eyes and prayed. _Lord, forgive him. He's just the gutless weakling I always feared he'd become. But I never thought he would go this far in his cowardice._

* * *

Enrico stopped, panting. His ribs seemed to be dipped in molten lead. "Thank God, and I thought I was too late." He managed to shoot Lisa a shaky smile, then returned his attention to Alexander. The paladin was motionless, his eyes fixed on his former student. "You see, Kenzy gave us a few files on that thing, and we concluded that's really not a good idea." Enrico made a pause to catch his breath again. "But I see Lisa and Heinkel solved that problem already. Good." Pretty much everybody stared at him open-mouthed. Not even at Iscariot you saw someone come back from the dead. It felt weird, and uncomfortable, to be in the spotlight like that, especially now that he was virtually no help anymore. God bless Lisa. Enrico would have been too late, as usual.

He could read his sister's lips: "How are you alive?"

"Later", he signaled.

Anderson walked towards him. Enrico felt his smile vanish. That his teacher was angry came as no surprise. He just didn't understand what was going on yet. When Enrico had seen him hold this nail, everything had come back: Scotland, the reports about the regenerator process, about the Nail of Helena, Lisa's nightmare. Kenzy's burning blue eyes, still sharp despite the decay of her body, and her twisted hand almost crushing his wrist only minutes before her death.

_There's yin problem wi' a' o' them. They're reckless. They'll dae anything if they think it's necessary. Ye have tae protect them fae themselves._ Kenzy had been right in so many more things than he had ever thought. _Just promise tae protect ma Alex._ He had made a promise and he intended to keep it.

Anderson towered over him, trembling in rage. That was already scary enough, even without the notion that he really considered hurting anyone. And he did that now, Enrico knew, though he didn't understand why. Anderson seemed deeply disappointed, and Enrico was not sure what to make of that. He knew he had messed up bad, to make the biggest understatement of the century. Enrico took a step back, then another one. Anderson followed.  
"Hou could ye?", he growled, so low only Enrico heard it. "Hou could ye fall so low, Enrico? Even efter a' tha' happened, Ah thought better o' ye. And Ah thought ye had come back on the path o' God."

Enrico stared at him, slowly taking another step backwards. The idea forming in his mind was ridiculous. Alexander could not really believe that, right? "A-Anderson, I think we have a misunderstanding here. I'd never- never-" He couldn't keep his voice from trembling. It jumped into falsetto for a second, when he stated (more like screamed): "I'm not- I'm not a vampire!" He flashed something that attempted to be a smile and turned into a grimace to show his teeth were still normal. Anderson didn't even seem to listen. A bayonet appeared in his hand. Enrico wondered what his chances were. Would he be able to deflect the first bayonet? No, that was ridiculous. The correct question was: Would he be able to draw his sword at all? Probably not. Nevertheless he crossed his arms in what hopefully seemed like a stern posture. His hand settled on the gemstone at the pommel of his only possible defense.

"Alexander-"

"Purge the unholy and unclean," he recited. "In yer filthiness is lewdness. Because Ah would have cleansed ye, yet ye are nae clean, ye will nae be cleansed fae yer filthiness again until Ah've spent Ma wrath on ye." Enrico was unsure if he should be disturbed by the fact that he knew from which chapter this quote was taken. Ezechiel, one of Alexander's most frequently quoted books of the Old Testament, a close second behind Revelations. "Fae it is impossible, in the case o' those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the guidness o' the word o' God and the powers o' the age tae come, and then have fallen awey, tae restore 'em again tae repentance, since they are crucifying once again the Son o' God tae their own harm and holding him up tae contempt." The Book of Revelations. What a surprise.

"I'm alive and myself, let me explain-" Enrico tripped over something and he fell, his already tender rips crying out in pain. He gasped, unable to scream, although he really wanted to. His hand slipped off the sword hilt. Not that it mattered. It wouldn't do him any good against Anderson. Why was he so determined on getting out of here anyway? He would only end up in the Vatican's dungeons. But he couldn't die in front of Lisa's eyes. Not a second time. Anderson could not be that cruel.

"Oh, vhat a vonderful, unexpected twist!", the Major exclaimed happily. "Ze fallen leader ist returned, but for how long?"

The bayonet glistened in the zeppelin's spotlight as it struck down. Enrico closed his eyes. At least he could die like a man.

There was no pain, no flash followed by eternal darkness or the sights of Limbo – or, more likely, hell. There was nothing except the gravel biting into his skin, the hints of a headache and the deep, rhythmic aching in his chest. Enrico dared to open his eyes a tiny bit. Anderson was towering over him, his face concealed by the bright shimmer of the spotlight behind him. He looked like God's angel of revenge incarnate.

The blade had buried into the ground centimeters from Enrico's body. He blinked at it, but had not much time to comprehend before he was swiped up in a bone-crushing bear hug.

"Ye're ae fool. A great daft fool, ye know tha'?"

"Yeah," Enrico got out. "I know." His rips felt like they were on the point of cracking even more. Breathing was out of the question. "Alex-" The tree trunk-like arms around him loosened a bit and he was able to get air into his lungs. It didn't relieve the fire in his body. He coughed. "Thanks."

Lisa felt like she was pushed, but she didn't move. Her head was spinning and the glaring light from above didn't help._ You bastard. We're coming for you_, she thought vaguely. Enrico was alive, then almost seemed to be killed right there by Anderson, and now the paladin hugged him. Lisa had thought she had already seen enough weirdness for one night and now this happened. She didn't try to understand anything anymore. It was just too confusing. Her mind would probably break if she had to process all of this at once.

Enrico seemed so tiny in comparison to this powerful fighter. He said something, but it was too quiet to be heard. Anderson set him down and Enrico grimaced, rubbing his ribs.

"Go! He's your brother, you get to greet him first. Not every day someone comes back from the dead." Heinkel tried to played it easy, but even she seemed shaken, for the umpteenth time tonight. Dead, not dead, it was never that easy, but-

The paladin gave her a push and Lisa started to run. She didn't want to cry anymore. It was all such a mess. She stopped before him, taking in that he basically looked the same as he had when she had been carried away. The gemstones of the sword shimmered.

"Whose coat is that?", Lisa asked.

Enrico blinked at her. Then he burst out laughing, a second later clutching his ribs in pain. But the sparkle didn't leave his eyes. "I almost literally come back from the dead and your first question is 'Whose jacket is that?'" Lisa felt light, as if she would just leave the ground at any moment and float to the stars, without any fear of falling. Enrico shook her gently. "Hey, don't pass out okay? I need you here." She nodded. And suddenly she could wrap her arms around him and she knew it was going to be alright. Her brother had survived and despite what he had done, it was going to be alright. It had to be. He returned the hug, if a little stiffly. His hands were pleasantly warm, as always. "I told you I don't plan to die." Lisa pressed her face in his shoulder and smiled, feeling a kiss being planted on her head. She didn't reply.

* * *

"Master, I have-" Vladimira attempted something like a formal greeting, the countess bowing down before her master. Then Caitlyn slammed into her.

"Mira!" She hugged the taller woman with all her strength, ignoring the undoubtedly uncomfortable armor pricking her. Mira was frozen in her half-bowing position, red eyes wide in confusion. Why was she surprised about that at all? After five years she should know what to expect of the involuntary Lady Hellsing. Caitlyn made no move to let go, so Mira slowly straightened up and returned the hug. She had thought to have seen many different things and people in her five hundred years, but Caitlyn definitely counted as one of the most extraordinary. She could smell somebody else on her. After a second she recognized the scent and had to suppress a chuckle. So in the end the girl had gotten what she wanted. Foolish, delusional, fascinating humans. Emotional bonds only hurt you in the end.

But what should she care? Feelings were for humans, those petty creatures so dependent on feelings. She shot a glance to Alexandru. He was still busy with the return of his master, who he had thought to be dead. Mira had sensed anger and grief, and now he looked relieved, although he had not been innocent in this. It was all highly confusing and she didn't really want to immerse in it. She had left it behind a long time ago and that was right.

"Sentimentality aside, shall we go on?", she asked. Caitlyn shot her a reproachful glance and whispered something in her ear. Mira listened and nodded.

"Of course, master." Caitlyn was shaking slightly, but the presence of her servant seemed to be enough reassurance. Mira set her down and Caitlyn straightened her leather jacket. Mira had never seen it on her. It was new and the smell had been strong, but Mira had been able to make out another familiar smell: Walter somehow was pulling the figurative strings here as well.

_Where are you?_ She send a telepathic impulse strong enough even the Captain should have been able to read it. Walter didn't reply. She knew he had gotten the message, but the link was immediately cut. She stifled a growl. _Fine then, be childish like that._

Mira turned back to Alexandru, but thought again and knelt down before Caitlyn. "Lady Caitlyn Olivier Morris Hellsing. Give me your orders."

Caitlyn sighed, but then raised her voice. Despite her bloodstained face and her shaking hands she managed to give her voice some kind of authority. "I can not allow anyone to attack us like this. Mira, carry this out now. Monster against human, vampire against paladin." She hesitated. "Catholic versus Protestant. Go ahead."

Mira nodded and flashed a bright smile. This would be fun. She turned back to the paladin, who had stepped forward, away from his proteges. She could hear them before he faced her.  
"Don't die on us," the blonde girl joked.

"Ah'll be damned, lassie." He turned away, a slight smile on his face. Such a good-hearted man. So brave.

Mira spread her arms. "Now then, paladin, are you ready to face me? On your own and without your trump card?" His demeanor had changed. The anger had subsided. Even if he would have had the nail now, Mira doubted he would have used it. That silly little man with his fake arrogance and big words had actually been useful for once. Caitlyn glared at her as if she had read her servant's thoughts. Mira smiled a bit wider.

"Ah've never been mair ready," Alexander announced. "Enjoy yer last minutes, night walker. Some day, ye midians will be extinct. And Ah'm starting with nae other than yerself." Mira smiled at her opponent. That was what she wanted to hear. The last big fight. She drew her sword and leaped at him. The blow was quick and perfectly aimed, but a lot less powerful than she could have made it. Alexandru saw that and deflected the blow instead of dodging it. Her sword clashed with his bayonet and he tackled her, slicing through the tiny space between her armor plates. Mira felt her blood leak through the metal and made a move she had never thought she would make: She snapped for Alexander's exposed neck. Her teeth closed with a loud clack centimeters from his artery. Then she was thrown back by a hard blow that would have shattered a human's ribs. She grinned at Alexander's somewhat confused face.

"What's the matter, paladin? Never heard of a vampire drinking the blood of his opponent?", she asked with a smirk. "Let me ask you, would I be able to turn you if I wanted? When I beat you, that is."

He growled and lunged. Mira shattered the bayonets with the Jackal's bullets, but let Anderson come so close his blades bumped off her armor. "Well? Could I?" She grabbed his throat with one hand and lifted him off his feet. To her surprise he didn't slice off her arm, but kicked her in the throat and landed on his feet to charge anew. The Casull's bullet didn't do considerable damage. Mira brought the Jackal out, but he slapped her hand aside the moment she shot and the bullet went astray. The bayonet buried into her body up to its hilt. Alexander didn't let go. They were barely centimeters from each other. "Tha' is none o' yer damned business, missy." He pushed her away and swiped at her head. The blow missed by an inch. Mira pulled the bayonet out, grimacing a little for effect. The Major wanted a good show, he got a good show. Caitlyn would be pleased. Mira took a second to look around. The Iscariots had dissolved, probably to take care of the rest of Millennium and some of the familiars.

A blade buried into her neck and she stumbled back. An arm like a steel beam wrapped around her. "Ready tae die, vampire?" Mira suppressed a giggle. She hadn't had that much fun in years – at least without killing anyone. She raised the Casull and blew a hole in his forehead. Alexander stumbled back and Mira changed her shape again. They faced each other. He was panting, blood all over his clothes, the bullet wound in his forehead smoking.

The princess smiled. Alexandru was right there. He didn't need to know. She knew, that was enough. They were dancing again, after so many years. She had almost lost him again, but his friends had acted in her interest for once.

"Ye said ae monster can only be defeated by ae human. Wonder hou that Helsing lass did it if she was nae regenerator. Or did ye make it extra simple fae him?", Alexander asked.

Mira laughed. "Oh no, that was more of a... spiritual thing. Should I show you? You just need to come a bit closer." She beckoned with a coquettish wave. He glared at her and drew new bayonets. Mira sighed and tried not to look at the zeppelin or her master. Alexander made a step forward and she aimed the Jackal at his head.

"Different question, human. Are you ready to die?" He didn't answer and Mira felt a grin creep on her face. "So?" He dodged the bullet, but only by less than half a centimeter. The guns were ripped from her hands, then bayonets buried into her. Mira felt blood splash on the ground, tasting it in her mouth when she coughed. He held her upright, not bothering to remove the blades. Her arms were draped over his shoulders. Mira grinned at him. All she had to do was bury her teeth in his neck. She could hold him in place long enough for that. And Alexander knew it. The question was what that would do to him.

"So, dragostea? What now?" They were arch-enemies, his hate for the demonic making him do what he did. The young princess didn't care. She was happy. Mira ignored everything around them. It was their last dance, paladin and vampire, Alexander and Vladimira. She could end it now, but where was the fun in that?

"What do you say, beloved enemy?" He didn't answer, but a twang of pain shot through her when the bayonet slashed sideways. No, she had not been mistaken. He was smiling.

* * *

_Deus Ex Machina, over the Thames, September 22nd, 4 am_

The Major narrowed his eyes. He didn't look happy and that made Avondale Napyeer, better known as the Doctor, very nervous. This was the big night, the Last Battalion's grand battle, so why did the Major look that... strange? The Doctor had no fitting description. Suspicious? Worried?

"Is somezing ze matter, Herr Major?", he asked, barely keeping himself from biting down on his finger again, a dreadful habit he had tried to drop for decades.

The Major folded his hands in his lap. His dinner was still untouched beside him. That was a bad sign. "I'm surprised, zat ist all, Herr Doktor. Of course, any other person aside from ze good Father Anderson is of no great concern to us, but ze fact zat Enrico Maxwell survived makes me zink."

"About what?", Schrödinger asked. He sat on the floor, stretching without any sense of decency. Sometimes the Doctor thought a cat had not been the best idea. A dog would have been better. He shot a glance at the Captain. The man hadn't moved in the slightest as far as the Doctor could tell. This line of experiments had ended years ago. And without a subject like him it would be next to impossible to pick it up again. A shame.

The Major of course didn't care about Schrödinger's behavior. He never did. That was part of the reason why the boy had turned out like this. Max patted the cat boy between the ears and the child purred. "Vell, it seems to me zat Lady Hellsing and ze newly appointed archbishop have made a bargain of some sort. Wery interesting for sure."

"Maybe he can-" Schrödinger was cut short by the Major's gesture. The boy shut up. If only he would do that every time the Doctor told him to.

"No, Schrödinger. Zat won't happen. Ve have everyzing ve need. Enrico Maxvell vill try to minimize ze damage to save his life. Do you know vhat avaits him back in Rome? Torture and death if he fails his mission." The Major smiled, as if the thought amused him. Schrödinger's ears twitched and he grinned. "Having been saved here vill not help him zere, you see," the Major continued. "His performance vas very interesting, to say ze least, but now I almost had ze impression he..." The Major didn't finish the sentence. He just smiled. "It doesn't matter. Zose silly kids interfering with ze Nail of Helena vas very unfortunate, but does not change anyzing."

Schrödinger turned around, rested his head on the Major's knee and looked up at him with big eyes. "You don't look happy," he stated. The Major looked at him, then at the screen. Lady Hellsing was watching her vampire and Anderson fight. She was pale, tired, worried, terrified, but there was something else. No, the Major did not look happy. The Doctor had a vague idea why. Why were they not killing each other? Surely they enjoyed the fight, but they had gotten several chances to destroy each other for good by now. It seemed like they were just playing around. The Doctor shook his head lightly. He was being ridiculous. Feelings were unnecessary and hard to formulate. The one thing he could never really grasp. How should he know?

"Major! Graf Zeppelin II is on fire!", a scared-looking officer announced way too loudly. So far, the Doctor had gladly managed to shut out their babbling. It was about time the Major took care of them. "Vhat ze hell is happening down zere?!"

The Major waved a hand. "Hush. Zis is ze big climax. Enjoy it."

"But- But Major!" The man broke off when the Major glared at him. This was getting worse by the second, the Doctor thought nervously. He would like to go to his lab now. There was a lot to do.

"Distribute firearms and ammunition to all soldiers left. For ze others, take hand grenades."

The ship captain made the mistake of continuing his wailing. "But... ve don't have enough left."

The Major had stood up and walked towards the screen wall. "Vhatever," he said. Schrödinger's ears shot upright. Things were not going as they were planned. "Steel pipes, supplies, it doesn't matter. Soldiers are an armed group. Once zat is finished, launch an assault. It vill be fun. Let's all sing ze Horst-Wessel-Lied." And to everyone's confusion he actually began to sing: "_Zum letzten Mal wird nun Appell geblasen. Zum Kampfe stehen wir alle schon bereit._ Vhat's wrong? Vhy are you not singing?"

The ship captain – the Doctor had never bothered to learn all names – was trembling.

"I've had enough!", he barked. "Ve're not the Waffen-SS! Ve're ze Deutsche Marine! Ve came here to beat zese English dogs! I von't allow any more of my men to die." Such nobility in such a place, the Doctor thought. What a pity.

The Major smiled. "So, you've came zat far and have not yet grasped ze essence of conflict."

He didn't need to give the signal. The Doctor pressed a button on his remote and the Luger, invaluable partner for more than seventy years, repaired more often than he wanted to count, was popped into the Major's hand. The ship captain stumbled back, but it would not have been necessary. The bullet missed. Just as bullet number two, three, and every other, until the gun was shot empty. The Major frowned. "It's no use, I don't hit him." he shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned. The Doctor suppressed a sigh. Sometimes he wondered how somebody like that had made it into the Waffen-SS in the first place.

The vampire was a step away from falling to his knees, trembling in terror, but he used his last bit of courage to make his death a quick one: He launched himself at the Major with a desperate, furious roar. His blood and the remains of his body splashed to the floor. The Doctor frowned. How was the chip supposed to work if the incendiary couldn't reach every part?

The footsteps were as quiet as a cat's. The Doctor winced. The Captain didn't move, but there seemed to be the hint of a glare in his eyes too. Only the Major smiled.

"Ah, our guest." He looked at the screen. Vladimira had her arms around Alexander Anderson's neck. One bite and she would have won. But they stopped for a second. "You see, she has found a very interesting opponent. Or should I say acquaintance? It vould be interesting to see if Father Anderson is really able to beat her after all, isn't zat right?"

The voice was as quiet as its owner's steps, but that didn't hide the cold rage vibrating in it. "He should have used the nail."

"Indeed, indeed." The Major unwrapped the burger. The Doctor relaxed a bit. "I suppose I have to zank you for zis deed." He indicated the smoking, bloody mess on the floor. With a wave of his hand he ordered someone to clean it up and bit into the burger. The guest wrinkled his nose in disgust for a second, but didn't say anything. The Doctor wished he could have run a few tests. But his research was irrelevant to them now. It was too late for the Last Battalion.

"I won't allow him to kill her."

The Major swallowed the bite and giggled. "Ah, yes, of course. Only you can do zat, am I right? You vere ze chosen vone."

"Don't make me kill you. I don't need you."

The Doctor tensed and the Captain was close to attacking, just like all the vampires around. Only the Major did not seem offended, not even bothered. Schrödinger was the first to pick up that attitude and grinned, but was clever enough to keep his mouth shut.

"Of course not," the Major said, as if it didn't concern him in particular. "But it has been a vhile since I talked to a voman, you see. Vhat is it like to be discarded like zat?"

If they were waiting for a snarl or an attack in response to this provocation, they were surprised. The answer was only a lifeless smile. "Stop lying, fatty." A gasp went through the crew and the Doctor felt himself become ashen. The Major frowned.

"Vhy vould I vant to lie, my friend?"

"There. I'm not your friend. I'm a tool to you." A giggle. The Doctor was used to everything society would call evil. He rejected these standards. They were just an unnecessary invention. But he still had a sense for the more primal intuitions. He shivered. The guest went on: "Except I'm not obeying your command, of course. She'll pay. You have other things to worry about."

The Major raised his eyebrows. "Do I?"

Another smile, a bit more menacing this time. "The moment I'm done with her, I'll fulfill my duty. Until then you might want to watch out for this Italian twit and his friends."

* * *

_Ludgate Hill, London, September 22nd, 3.45 am_

After everything that happened in the last six hours, the dome of St. Paul's cathedral was more black and gray than white. It could be seen from almost everywhere now, after Millennium's attack had knocked over most of the taller buildings, skyscrapers, monuments, everything in their way. The cathedral stood tall over a city that had been reduced to anarchy and blood in a war only few saw coming, and nobody tried to prevent. The street they walked along was almost free of rubble and whatever was lurking in the streets. The familiars had no interest whatsoever in the small group, neither had the ghouls. There was easier prey to catch. It was a miracle there were still civilians alive, but somewhere, somebody was always stirring. Strange times in which a twitching would end your life.

Heinkel and Yumie looked back. The shots and screams from far away had become a part of the background by now, but the fight behind them was very close.

"It looks like they're dancing," Yumie said, unsure what to make of it. "Is Anderson holding back?"

Heinkel shrugged her shoulders, although she had about the same thought. Enrico had already walked on, oblivious to, or simply ignoring their conversation. Lisa had her arm linked with his and didn't want to risk letting go for joining in. The Chaos Girls hurried to catch up. The airship had changed course and now drifted along directly over their heads.

"There will be a ton of enemies up there," Heinkel said. Enrico looked at her and raised an eyebrow. The paladin shrugged her shoulders. "Just saying." She overtook them and headed for a house that had not yet crumbled, though its neighbors were scarcely more than simmering piles of wood, stone and metal. Yumie drew her katana and beheaded a ghoul that wanted to jump at them. They climbed up the stairs. It was a house with various flats on four levels. On the second floor, a pale, frightened face peeked out of a door, but the man shut it quickly when he saw them. They ignored him. There were ghouls in some flats and they could hear a fight, but they walked on. Nobody got in their way. Eventually, they reached a window that would bring them on the steep roof.

Heinkel went first. The tiles were crusted with grime, moss and smoke. Even she had trouble finding a secure footing at first. She waited for Yumie and together they helped Lisa to the gable, then Enrico. Both were wavering on the scrap of even ground it provided. No amateur would have come up here if he was sane. Yumie told them to sit down. They obeyed. The zeppelin was hovering over them, the gondola barely two meters away. Its windows were illuminated, without showing anything distinct. Heinkel drew her Desert Eagle and shot at the giant complex of steel. Enrico and Lisa winced. The chief attempted to say something, but didn't. Heinkel steadied her stand on the gable. On the gondola, a hatch was opened. Heinkel formed a ladder with her fingers and catapulted Yumie at the curious vampire poking his head out. Her blade cut through him without giving him a chance to cry out. Blood splashed down. The three remaining Iscariots avoided it absently. Yumie vanished in the zeppelin. There was not as much as screaming, no shots, just the splashing of liquid, like someone had poured a bucket out. Then any noise from this part of the zeppelin stopped, as far as they could tell.

"Watch out," Yumie called. A rope ladder fell down and landed down on the tiles with a heavy thump. Heinkel nodded at the ladder. Lisa went first, her brother following, shaking a bit more than he liked. Heinkel was the last. They pulled the ladder in again. Nobody spoke. They didn't need to. Everybody knew the plan.

Yumie went first, katana drawn. They would eliminate everyone on this zeppelin, every last vampire and whatever other creatures Millennium had in store. The Major had to be protected by his were-pet, so they had to leave him to the end. Heinkel received two knifes from Lisa, so they could be more quiet.

The hatch was roughly in the middle of the gondola, according to a plan attached to the wall of the main corridor, including directions like "Kommandozentrale" and "Telegraf". Heinkel translated the plan for them. They would avoid the command center in the front for the time being. Millennium should be out of most weapons by now. How many vampires were here? How many had been destroyed by Lady Dracula's flood of familiars? The four stood in front of the plan, taking in all the details, anything that might be useful. The zeppelin was even more gigantic from within if that was even possible.

"Surrender," a rough voice said. Gun safeties were flicked off. Heinkel and Yumie looked at their leader. Enrico ignored them and continued to study the plan.

The voice continued. "Ze Major vill be happy to question you."

"Question me?", Enrico asked softly. Cabins, storage, weapons... the laboratory. Various connected rooms, right behind a large room labeled "Rechenzentrum".

"If you don't surrender, ve can... inconvenience you in a few... delicate places and bring you zere as vell," threatened the vampire.

"First you have to get past us," Yumie spat, getting in a fighting position. Enrico held up a hand and she froze. The air was vibrating with tension. The vampires – almost a dozen, their faces hidden by scarfs, except the leader's, all armed with automatic rifles – laughed.

"How fearful," somebody mocked them.

Yumie was close to snarling. Her hands were closed tightly around sheath and hilt of her katana. "Heinkel, Yumie," Enrico said sharply. Both stepped back, but obviously uncomfortable.

"How did you know we were here?", Enrico asked the vampires, without even bothering to look at them. From the tone of his voice, he could have been talking about the weather. The zeppelin had so many levels and sublevels, it was impossible to check everything. Even if they had all of Iscariot, it would take too long. They had to concentrate on the major players. "That is highly inconvenient." He turned around and looked the group over. The leader was a man of average height, which had been tall back in the forties. He had shaggy blond hair, coated with blood, and a face cut in sharp angles. A scar ran over his eyebrow down to the bridge of his nose.

The vampires were getting restless. It was almost inconceivable under their uniforms and trained stillness, but some twitched. "Heinkel and Yumie?", somebody asked almost inaudibly. More stirring. Murmurs ran through the group.

The leader grinned at them. Blood was shimmering on his teeth in the color of red wine.

"Come vith us and find out. But you von't, right? Fine. Zen ve'll haf a delicious meal first. Who should ve take?" His eyes focused on Lisa, whose hand Enrico had been holding since they entered. "Interesting choice to bring a few girls as protection." He clacked his teeth in a mocking gesture. "I vant ze girl in ze middle. Ze good archbishop seems to be wery fond of her. Hold ze others. I want to kill zem one by one."

The vampires looked at each other. Nothing happened for several second, until the leader spun to gape at them. "Vhat is wrong with you?!", he snapped. "Zey're just human."

Another silence reigned for several moments. "Zose are ze Chaos Girls," somebody eventually mumbled. "Zey're Iscariot's best fighters, just after ze bayonet priest. Shouldn't ve be more careful?"

The leader – Yumie had decided to call him Fritz – gaped at his minion for a moment. "VHAT?!"

"Nothing against being famous, but I wish it would have been a better name," Heinkel said. That brought a smile even on Lisa's worried face. Her fingers felt the cool metal of her daggers, ready to strike at any moment. But Enrico seemed to have other plans. He held her hand tightly, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. They wouldn't attack yet.

He had his gaze fixed firmly on the vampires. "You should know Iscariot does not back down."

Fritz shot him an annoyed glance. "Ze same arrogant idiot as before. Looks like ze Major might be wrong for once. Zere are almost one hundred and fifty vampires on zis zeppelin, and you're four humans. One of vhich I heard can't even fight." He took in the sword hilt peeking out under the jacket and smiled unpleasantly. "Maybe ze Doctor vants zat fancy zing zere for his collection?"

"One hundred and fifty, huh? That's pretty lame for a battalion of a thousand after barely six hours. Less than four, if you count our arrival as start of the actual battle."

Fritz snarled. He was only a step away from lunging at them and tear this ridiculous, holier-than-thou bastard's throat out. It would be worth the punishment. It was their last night, nobody would remember any specific names, who cared? But no, he had a better plan. They were all full from the battle, they didn't care about the blood. It would be a lot more fun to see him suffer. And they would start with that pale little girl in the middle.

"I say GET ZEM! Ve are ze-" He was interrupted by someone clearing his throat. Fritz turned around and ground his teeth at the newcomers. "Provost Lieutenant Bertholt Lauch!" He tried to be friendly. "Ve vere just about to call ze Major."

"Ze Major is busy otherwise," this idiot of a bureaucrat said with a wide, fake smile. His hands were behind his back, pretending to be relaxed. He had brought almost twenty other vampires. "Ve vill receive our prisoner."

"Vhy does ze Major vant him anyvay? He has no-"

"Are you questioning ze Major's orders?"

Another soldier stepped up to them, shifting nervously on his feet. "Uh... Provost Lieutenant..."

"Don't interrupt!", both barked.

The vampire soldier hesitated. "But..."

Bertholt ignored him. "As I said, ze Major vants him captured alive. As to ze rest of his group-"

"Are you done?", Heinkel interrupted. She had to stifle laughter. Lauch. Seriously? That was a one hell of a name for a vampire Nazi. The vampires redirected their attention to them. If vampires could have grown pale, they would have. Heinkel and Yumie had their weapons drawn, but were leaning against the wall as if they were just waiting for an old friend at the cinema. Now both straightened up, stretching in fake relaxation.

"Where-" The Major would kill him, and not swiftly. No, a long-drawn death without honor -

"Don't worry," Yumie said with a smile. "The chief got bored listening to your bickering, but you won't have to report that to your boss. Actually, you won't have to do anything anymore."

"Vho do you zink you are?!", Bertholt barked. "Shoot zem!"

Thirty against two. That was really unfair. Heinkel and Yumie looked at each other and shrugged.

"We're the Chaos Girls."

* * *

_Deus Ex Machina, central corridor, rear of the ship, September 22nd, 4.25 am_

"You think they're okay? And Alexander?", Lisa asked quietly. Vampires marched past, but nobody noticed them, in the entrance to a now empty weapon storage.

"Of course they are. And Alex will defeat that monster. Just wait and see." Enrico managed an enthusiastic smile. Adrenaline was holding off the sleepiness for now, but he was exhausted and had trouble ignoring the pain flaring in his body. The good news: Sunrise would begin in barely twenty minutes. Then this would finally end. The bad news: It wouldn't have any effect for at least another hour and there was still a lot to do.

Everything in him protested against his plan. It had never done them any good to separate. That was just what the group of stupid teenagers in every horror movie did. "Lisa, you have to check out the command center for me." She looked at him and already drew breath to protest. He grabbed her shoulders and looked intently into her tired and from crying reddened eyes. "I know," he said softly. "I know, Lisa. But we don't have a choice. I need your help. Just do it, please."

"There are about _one hundred and fifty_ vampires. How do you think we will get through this?" Lisa was the optimistic one. She was the strong one. She couldn't give up. If she did, it was all over.

"Together. Like always." Enrico stroked her matted hair. "I'll take care of them." Lisa didn't reply. He dreaded the answer, but he had to ask. "Do you trust me?"

After all that happened, Enrico wouldn't have been surprised if the answer would have been No. Not even from her. It would hurt, more than anything the Vatican prosecutors would do to him, but it would not be a surprise. He deserved it, after all he had done.

Lisa shook her head, her lips a pale line. Righteous punishment. Why should someone like him find any help or even affection? Still, his heart sank like the Titanic after it hit the iceberg.

"Of course I do, you idiot," Lisa said. She was too tired to give her voice a sharp edge. "You're my brother. If I can't trust you, I can quit right now. What do you want to do?" He quickly summarized his plan. She frowned, but didn't protest.

"Then we better get going." She kissed him on the cheek and left, not much louder than a shadow. Enrico looked after her. Just like back then, the night before they got her home from the orphanage. This could not end good. Not anymore. They were done for, even if his plan succeeded. He was done for. At least I'll go down with guns blazing, I suppose. Enrico shrugged his shoulders and went on his way.

* * *

_St. Paul's cathedral, September 22nd, 4.20 am_

Anderson was thrown back when Mira hit him right in the chest. He fell to his knees and coughed, blood dripping to the ground. Mira could have killed him by now, easily. The other way around would be possible as well. The paladin got to his feet and wiped his mouth. The pain in his chest disappeared and left only a sore feeling he could easily ignore.

"Tha' a' ye can do, vampire?" Mira giggled and didn't dodge his attack. She rather grabbed his neck and held him there. The gesture was less violent than one would expect. Mira smiled happily. This was not about a clean fight, about kill or be killed. Anderson freed himself and her fingers brushed over his neck before a bayonet cut through them. Mira giggled and put distance between them while she healed herself.

Caitlyn wrapped her arms around her body. The jacket held off the autumn cold, but she shivered anyway. They looked like they were dancing. Mira seemed strangely happy. Since all of this had begun a few weeks ago – God, had it really been such a short time?-, Caitlyn didn't know what to think anymore. She had expected Mira to be angry at the command.

_Don't kill him. You and Anderson are the big finale. The Major wants to see a good show. Distract him as long as you can, buy us some time._ Instead, she seemed happy. Caitlyn didn't understand it and didn't attempt to anymore. She could only hope their joke of a plan would actually work. She looked up at the zeppelin, the lit windows directed at the battle.

Blood will have blood. Enrico was up there somewhere, with his sister and his two best friends. Fighting the last battle of this night. Caitlyn had sworn revenge on the Major so often, after every hit they had taken. September 3rd, when their mansion was attacked, Brazil, the Eagle, and now this. Now the second-biggest villain of this whole scheme would become the hero slaying the dragon? Caitlyn felt a flutter in her stomach when she remembered kissing him. She had acted without thinking, just out of need for comfort like a wild animal. She was already an idiot for forgiving him after this slaughter. _Which he was not entirely responsible for._ Just because he was a damn good kisser didn't mean he was a good person. And just because he was handsome, and smart, and had a cute smile... It only meant she was silly. Nothing more. This would never end well. She rubbed her hands against each other to warm them. His skin had been so warm it had almost burned, but it had been a pleasant heat.

_Caitlyn._ She winced and saw Mira shooting her a grin just before she was knocked down by her opponent. Of course, Mira had probably heard all of that. Caitlyn felt her face flush. She had to think about more important things right now. Like Mira and Anderson. They were just playing around for now, buying Enrico and her time so they could bring down Millennium.

_And then we settle this age-old conflict once and for all._ But how should they? Anderson and Mira would fight to the death. One won, one died. Caitlyn had a vague feeling it would be Mira who would die. After so many years, the vampire queen craved it, she had never made a secret of that. And Anderson was the only one strong enough to match her. Her relationship to the regenerator had been weird from the beginning. Caitlyn wondered what she saw in him.

And after that? Catholic Britannia? If England won, it would continue, until the Vatican finally accepted that this would go nowhere. Which was probably... never. They would just from ancient grudge break to new the Vatican won... what would happen then? A religious dictatorship, begun by an inquisition? Right in the middle of Europe? This was not the middle ages anymore. Or what else? She had no idea. Maybe she didn't want to know.

The Vatican would never allow any vampire. Walter could take care of himself, she was more than sure of that, but... Would Enrico betray her again? After this?

_Oh, don't be stupid. He kissed a lot of girls, for sure. He's attractive, a charmer, and obviously not feeling too bound by the rules of his church. It doesn't mean anything to him. Even if it does now, in a few days, when this is over and I'm a prisoner or dead or whatever, he won't care._

Caitlyn knew she was blinded by her feelings. The bond she felt was irrational and dangerous, but that didn't make it less powerful. _This is the very ecstasy of love_, she thought and had to smile. Ecstasy, as Shakespeare had described it, was nothing less than sheer madness. But what did it matter? She had nothing, what could she possibly lose? At the moment she had kissed him, had felt his warm lips and sweet taste, she had known she might end up being executed, either by him or with him. And she didn't care. Why should she always be responsible for things she could hardly grasp? She was not made to rule. _Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them._ If he was with her, she would welcome the reaper and smile when she took death's hand.

The way Mira was smiling now. Caitlyn looked around. The man she had seen in Brazil, Alhambra, the Dandy Man, vanished, along with the woman with the rifle. They seemed startled, but then a kind of peace softened their features as they dissolved. They turned into a shining dark red matter that dissolved into the ground. Caitlyn winced when a familiar grabbed her arm. She recognized the face immediately, although it had been more than five years. The man that had kidnapped her and forced to open Mira's prison. She had never asked what happened to him, or who he was. Now she had an answer to the first question. She could have expected it. She should have, knowing her friends. After such a long sleep Mira must have been very hungry.

The man stared at her, his eyes wide with fear. He didn't possess the glowing holes of the other familiars. For some reason, he was special. She ripped her arm out of his grasp and stumbled back. He dissolved and was gone. One after the other, the remaining familiars disappeared. They made no sound. They didn't scream or put up a fight. They just disappeared like phantoms, going to where ever souls went after being freed from their vampiric mistress. It left the streets empty except for the corpses of civilians and crusaders. There was no difference between them now. Death was the big equalizer.

Caitlyn felt tears in her eyes, but she knew she could not interfere. This was what Mira wanted. The giant paladin had blocked the view so far, but now he turned around to adjust his footing on the gravel. Mira lay limp in his arms, in the form of a young Wallachian girl, a form Caitlyn had never seen before. Her black hair was flowing almost to the ground, the armor was shining brightly, even in the dark. She looked much younger, more... human. Her red eyes were half-closed, their usual glow fading to a natural brown color. Anderson held her, one arm around her waist, almost carrying her bridal style. He was torn, bloodied and out of breath. And more, he looked flustered. Maybe he hadn't expected to win after all.

A bayonet protruded from Mira's chest. Blood slowly fell from her lips in small, crimson droplets. It was a lethal wound. The paladin only needed to push the blade through and the battle was over. Vladimira Tepes Draculea, the vampire queen, Countess Dracula, Princess of Walachia, was finally defeated.

She said something Caitlyn couldn't hear. Anderson seemed even more confused, but clenched his teeth and nodded. He grabbed the hilt of the bayonet. Mira smiled at him like a sleepy child.

The blade fell to pieces and Mira crashed to the ground as Anderson was thrown back. Smoke concealed the battlefield, making Caitlyn's eyes water. _What the heck?_

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to kill her," a voice said. It was a voice Caitlyn should be happy about. So she wasn't alone after all. But on the contrary, she only felt cold, very cold, and helpless. The smoke drifted apart, revealing the slender figure she had been in love with once.

"You have no part in this, Anderson," Walter said. "If anyone kills Alucard, it will be me."

* * *

Sorry not sorry. I love cliffhangers. Feedback? I looked forward to see your reaction to this chapter. (*cough* All chapters, actually.)

Zum letzten Mal wird nun Appell geblasen. Zum Kampfe stehen wir alle schon bereit. - For the last time the call will now be blown. (I took that from the Dark Horse version... No idea how to properly translate it.) For the fight we all already stand ready. (Literal translation. Sounds better in German.)

Did anyone ever notice that no matter what, Alucard never attempted to bite Anderson? The other vampires make good use of their teeth (Alucard too, in Brazil for example), but between them it's strictly... professional? I just figure that it would not be dignified. Anderson is not an easy prey for Alucard like the other humans.

Also: Lauch = leek. He appeared in a few FFs I wrote for my best friend and he totally annoyed her / her character. So he gets a ridiculous name.


	29. Of Wolf & Man

Another week, another chapter! (I'm trying. Promise.) Thanks to everyone who commented!

Laugh of the week, paraphrased: "I don't understand why Alucard is a woman and Walter is like that in this story." - Because I can. That's why.

Anyway, have fun!

* * *

**Chapter 27: Of Wolf &amp; Man**

_Târgoviste, Romania, 1458_

Vladimira's stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten all day, after throwing up in the morning. Sighing, she pretended to arrange her dress and brushed her belly. She couldn't help a smile passing over her face. Alexandru was away, fighting a battle she would love to be part of. But they were expecting envoys, and she hadn't been able to hide the sickness that gripped her in the mornings. So far, he hadn't related it to anything and she was glad about it. She would be sheltered to a point it became ridiculous, as soon as Alexandru got wind of it. So she would hide it as long as she could, despite her guilty conscience. Lies were the root of all evil.

There was a discreet knock on the door. "Come in", she called.

Stanislav entered, followed by two soldiers – the guards she had kicked out to have a bit of peace and quiet only half an hour ago – and a bunch of servants.

Stanislav bowed. "Princess Vladimira, the Turkish envoys are here."

The servants, hovering nervously behind him, looked distinctly uncomfortable hearing her be called "princess". Everybody knew that disrespect could be a death sentence, just like lying and crime was. They had to be new. Vladimira didn't recognize their faces.

She nodded and stood up. Her back felt sore from all the sitting and reading new laws. Soon she would make another public appearance. Maybe after that she could finally get some time to herself. A hunt and a little training were just what she needed.

"The Turkish envoy," a voice with a Turkish accent announced. "Radu cel Frumos."

Mira felt her body freeze before she could even think of greeting anyone. Radu had grown up a lot. He was powerfully built, with a thick black mustache and hair down to his shoulders. A soldier. He smiled at her and for a moment she could see the boy he had been. Her little brother. The traitor, who had sided with the Turks that mistreated them, the sultan's dearest friend, the man who continued to wreak havoc on her country. He was accompanied by two Janissary soldiers casting wary glances around.

"Welcome." Her voice sounded strange in her ears, like a rusty iron gate swinging shut. It was a dead sound, not even cold, just... devoid of any emotion. A layer of ice had formed inside of her and grew fast, until it was filling her completely. It was trying to contain the hot rage burning in her stomach. They were not strong enough to take on the Turkish army just yet. Mehmet II. knew that. That was the only reason to send Radu. They wanted her to make a mistake.

"Thank you for receiving us so fast, sister."

"I'm not your sister." Her voice didn't have the slightest edge, not a hint of anger or – a bad joke – sadness. She just stated a fact. "What is your business here? You won't have come the long way to chat about old times, I suppose."

Radu waved away his bodyguards. After a moment's thought, Mira nodded at Stanislav. He didn't seem happy to leave her alone, but obeyed. Radu and Mira stayed back, just the two of them.

"It's been a while," she said softly and sat down again, crossing her legs in an especially careless manner. A twinge of pain shot through her stomach, but she managed to ignore it.

Radu looked around for a chair and found none. "Is it going to be like that? I don't understand why you hate the Turks so much. They treated us well."

She almost let a hysterical little laugh slip. Instead, all that came out was a quiet sneer. The ice was melting with increasing speed. "Only in your memory."

"Why did you disobey like that?" She didn't even dignify that with an answer. Radu pressed on. "Sister, there is no need for bloodshed."

She inhaled slowly, deeply, and then exhaled. "Please do not call me sister again, envoy."

"But you are!" He put on a wide, fake smile. "You're my sister. Just like Mirce-"

"Don't. You. Dare." Mira jumped to her feet and strolled up to him, her steps feeling stiff and unnatural. "Don't you dare to pull him into this. You stopped being family when you betrayed us." She didn't give him time to protest. "The past is in the past. No matter what we might have been, deceit and treachery make it meaningless. That is just what you are to me now. Meaningless."

His jaw set in a firm line she knew well. "Am I?"

She turned around and walked back to her throne. "_Da_. You see, I have a high respect for family and friendship. But once a friend betrays me, I do not know mercy. It's simple, really."

"Then it will be pointless to pursue this conversation. May Allah protect you. I will pray for you."

"I do not need your puny God's help. And spare your prayers. Fighting is prayer enough."

She waited for Radu to leave, which he did. But not before he said: "Then you will bear the weight of all the lives to be lost." The door slammed shut and Mira felt the tension leave her body. She could capture him right now, impale him on a stake. The satisfaction would be enormous. But no, that would be silly. Politics were such an unnerving game.

Stanislav would know what the Turks wanted in the first place. This would cause problems in the future, she knew. Until then she had to take care her own kingdom was save from traitors and deceivers. Mira stared at her throne, and its twin, equally empty.

"Mama!" She spun at Iulia's voice. Her five-year-old daughter crashed into her at thigh level and buried her tear-streaked face in the fabric of her mother's dress. Mira's contempt and rage dissipated and were replaced with worry.

"Iulia, what's wrong?" She knelt down and took the sobbing girl into her arms. For several minutes, Iulia didn't get anything out except incomprehensible babbling and more sobs while she clung to Mira's shoulder. The queen needed every ounce of willpower not to shake the fragile child to get an answer. It could be nothing, just a child's usual distress, but she knew it was not.

"What happened?", she asked again.

Iulia whimpered, but managed to speak clearly. "It's... it's Father. He's... he's hurt."

Mira leaped to her feet just as Stanislav stormed in without knocking. "Princess! You need to come with me immediately."

She didn't ask, just picked up the wailing Iulia and followed her old friend and mentor through the dark hallways of her castle. The servants fearfully cleared the way, mumbling among themselves.

Alexandru lay on a bed that seemed way too small for him. With numb hands, Mira put down her daughter. "Stanislav, take care of her."

"Yes, milady."

The bedside was surrounded by maids and servants, all curious and chatting quietly. Their presence was a sacrilege. She heard a female voice whisper "He should be put down. Spare him the suffering." Crimson rage swept over her vision. Whoever said that would end up on a stake.

"Everybody out!", Mira snapped.

The room cleared as if the pox had suddenly been discovered in its middle. Stanislav was the last to leave, casting back a worried glance and closing the door. Iulia's crying vanished in the distance. But Mira could hear her words, just before they were gone.

"Is _tată_ going to die?"

They had taken off most of his armor. He looked so vulnerable. Mira slowly approached the bed. Alexandru's eyes were closed. His skin was so pale it seemed to be transparent and covered in cold sweat and blood. Mira winced when she touched his burning forehead. He groaned and moved a little, then lay still again.

His right leg was covered in bloody bandages and strapped tightly between two straight wooden sticks. They had obviously tried to correct the multiple fractures, but even so, bone and flesh were horribly twisted and mangled. He would never be able to walk properly again, let alone ride or fight in a battle. If he survived at all.

Mira knelt down beside the bed and took her husband's limp hand, putting it on her stomach. A new wave of pain hit her just now. She gritted her teeth. This was not about her.

"Don't leave us alone. Our son needs you," she whispered. She rested her forehead on his side, hot and cold at the same time. Fighting was prayer enough. He had to fight for his life. "I need you."

Fighting. Fighting was all that counted. Praying, begging, it was useless. God did not help the weak, those who beg for mercy. She would never beg for mercy. Not when the sultan dragged her into his bedchamber. Not when she got whipped or locked up to toy with. Not when she lost her only friend. Not when Radu betrayed her. Not when Mircea and her father were murdered. Not when Alexandru lay in his bedside, hovering between life and death. He had to fight for his life. Fighting was prayer. When she left behind Castle Poienari, alone, behind her the corpses of those she had loved, she did not pray. She fled and kept fighting.

For paradise. For Jerusalem. For God. In the end, when everybody had fought, everything would be right. The dead would arise into paradise. Only those who died fighting. Fools who begged for mercy could die and rot in hell. And at the end, God would descend. That was Jerusalem. That was the end of her prayers. Praying through battle was the only way. At the end God would come from the heavens, before the miserable, wretched humans, He would descend.

"Did he, mad queen?" Mira was dully aware of being dragged along, her knees scraping the dirt. Clothed in the rags of her armor, to be spat and laughed upon. "Where is your God now? Where is Jerusalem, your Paradise?"

Mira closed her eyes. Bodies, piled up, dismembered, lone heads on piles, bodies hanging from the trees. She could smell the sickening stench of blood and rotting meat. Death. Everybody died. Died for what she believed in. For her prayers, her paradise, her God. The God that had forsaken her.

The soldiers pushed her to her knees in the pool of blood, her hair getting soaked in the icy liquid. She could hear the ax being set down, as the next body was discarded like the rag doll it had become.

She was no different. Just a puppet to be laughed at by God. They were all dead now. Those she loved. Those she should protect. Her enemies. Her allies. Herself. She killed them.

"You are incorrigible," said the soldier. The hangman raised his ax. She could hear shouts.

"Kill the she-devil!" "Whore!" "Butcheress!" The blood was glowing on the dirt, scarlet on brown. It would all be over soon. What did she lose everything for?

The blood moved closer to her. Tempting. Mira lowered her head and immersed into the bitter, metallic taste, turning sweet. So sweet. She was dead. Everyone was.

* * *

_London, September 22nd, 2016, 4.45 am_

Mira felt herself surge, drifting upwards from the black depths of an ocean to the water's surface. There was a voice, calling her. No, not calling her. Calling her partner. Her best friend. She opened her eyes. Alexander Anderson was there. The man that was so much like her beloved Alexandru and yet was not him. The man by whose hands she had wanted to die. The only one that should be allowed to kill her. But it was not he that spoke.

He pulled the bayonet out of her body. The pain jerked her awake. Her daze, the memories faded away like the phantoms they were. Her body healed the damage. He would never beat her like that. But that was not the point anymore.

"If anyone kills Alucard, it's me." Alexander let her go without resisting, too busy figuring out what was happening. Mira straightened up and suppressed a growl.

_Walter. What the hell are you doing? I'm busy._

She didn't get a reply, not even a sarcastic one. Walter's shape was dark against the bright moonlight, a young man with his black hair in a ponytail, a strong, agile shape, all black, with glowing red eyes. The wires glistened around him in a pale shade of blue. Yet the body did not really seem to fit him. It never had. He would forever remain a child. And a child was like he acted.

"Walter?", Caitlyn stuttered. "What do you mean? Where have you been, anyway?"

The red eyes turned to her, a menacing glow, the sign of a monster stalking its prey. "Excuse my late appearance. I've been busy, milady."

"B-Busy?" Caitlyn read him. She saw something Mira was still unable to understand. This had to be part of the plan. Walter was here to keep Anderson from killing her. The fight should not be over that fast because the Major was still out there... Mira almost laughed. Curse that woman and her plans, her good heart... But in Caitlyn's thoughts was only fatigue, confusion and anxiety. No relief. No confidence. She was lonely. Very lonely.

This was not meant to be. It could not. "Walter... what do you want?"

He turned to her and jumped off the wall, barely a shadow, landing gracefully on the rubble. "What I want? You really are a fool in your old days, aren't you?"

It was quiet. There was the sound of ghouls stumbling over rubble, of fire burning and a soft breeze stirring up the dust. It was quiet and cold in her.

"You," Mira whispered. "You of all people. How could you betray me?" She was thirteen years old. The sultan dragged her to his chambers. Radu watched her. He didn't care. He had long chosen to become one of them. He had chosen to abandon her.

Mira shrieked and lunged at Walter in blind fury. The wires glistened as they moved, wrapping around her. She didn't feel the pain. She wanted to tear his throat out for his betrayal.

* * *

Caitlyn was shivering with cold, confusion and hopelessness. She saw herself, leafing through some of the thick books in the library. Folders with occult information, history, even diaries. One of them belonged to a Julian Hellsing, one of Abigail's grandsons. Caitlyn had shuddered at what he had written. Other than his brother Samuel, the heir to the Hellsing's responsibilities, he was worried about Mira and what she could do.

"_You can't force a vampire into submission without a decent binding. And the spell cast on Alucard is the best there is. That's what Samuel claims. Grandmother taught us so. _

_But she also told us how she defeated the vampire. She won the vampire's respect in this defeat. Samuel doesn't want to see because he has the same problem. Grandma taught us power is corrupting. Its addictive. Even a saint won't be able to resist forever. Once they have power, they want to prove themselves. Everybody wants to be respected. And no mean is out of the question to do so_."

Caitlyn wrapped her arms around herself. The soft wind seemed icy, ripping through her clothes like claws. _Pride went before, ambition follows him._

"You betrayed your country?", Caitlyn asked quietly. "You betrayed us to _them_?"

"Oh, no, they caught me and gave me a brain wash." Walter's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You really are naive, Caitlyn. You don't really think I'd side with scum like them?"

Mira was still clawing at the net of wires slowly cutting her to bits, but now her thoughts seemed to gather again, enough to bring her fury under control, if not stifle it. Suddenly she started to laugh. It was an unpleasant, hysteric sound that made Caitlyn wince.

"Foolish boy. You envious, scrawny child."

Walter snarled, not able to maintain his self-righteous grandeur. "That scrawny brat will cut you to pieces in a minute! What's so bloody funny, you bitch?!"

Mira laughed even harder. "You didn't change. You didn't change a bit in all those years. You're the same pretentious, jealous brat." She grinned and shot a glance at Caitlyn. The girl looked more lost than ever. "You always wanted to fight me, didn't you? All those years you wanted to prove you were better than me and stronger. That's all this is about. Showing off. Just like the Major, just like everyone."

Walter had been bent forward, the wires stretched to a breaking point, the stance of a predator about to pounce. Now he straightened up and relaxed as a cool smile crossed his features.

"Maybe," he said softly. "Maybe. But I never wanted to kill you, you know?" He paused, pensive. His eyes wandered over Caitlyn, Mira and eventually over Anderson. The man seemed to wonder if he should interfere. Mira should have killed him already. Instead she let herself be defeated by this pathetic echo from her past. What a joke. Should the Catholic intervene – Walter would finish him off in the matter of minutes. He didn't really care. The paladin had no part in this. He didn't matter. Taking him out without need would make an unnecessary fuss.

"We were partners." There was a significant pause. "Friends." His eyes flashed in fury, though his face remained cold and distant.

"So that's why you sold us out to them," Caitlyn said. Her voice was astoundingly calm, considering she was pale as a ghost and shaking too bad to even stand straight.

Walter looked at her and his face softened. "Don't be silly. This has nothing to do with you. You might be a bit dreamy and naive, but you're neither stupid nor a bad leader. Especially considering you were thrown into this unprepared. Either way." He returned his gaze to Mira. "This is only between us."

"No, dear friend." Mira's shape flowed back into the woman with the chin-long hair and red duster. A pale, black-haired, red-eyed Abigail van Helsing. The woman who slew the monster. Because monsters could only be defeated by humans. "You betrayed Hellsing to those we should destroy. And that means I have to destroy you as a traitor to the master I serve. You're nothing more than a target."

Walter made a disgusted sound. "You're the one to talk about betrayal."

Caitlyn stared at them. She shook her head, not in defiance, but overwhelmed. She had always wondered why Mira behaved so weird around the paladin. Of course Walter could not have missed it. And the worst part was: She knew what he felt. She had experienced it herself. It was an awful feeling and she had wanted to wreak bloody vengeance more than once. Her good heart and naturally pacifistic attitude had won. But what could you expect of a child that never knew any other way? Even more, a vampire was a beast. Nothing else.

Every piece fell in its place. So many things she had wondered about. Caitlyn looked at the horizon, a faint gleam of sunlight cutting through smoke and darkness over the remains of a once proud city. The Major was sitting up there in his castle of an airship, enjoying the show. They needed more time. She could sort this out. No more of her friends and allies else would die tonight.

_This was the most unkindest cut of all. Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, quite vanquish'd him._  
"Integra's mother died in childbirth, didn't she?", Caitlyn asked. Only weeks ago she had discarded the idea. Reading people was her talent. She had become careless and arrogant. But vampires were not simply people. They played by different rules. "Not long after she got Arthur to lock Mira up. Weird coincidence."

Walter smiled sweetly, as if that was the best joke he'd heard in weeks. "Strange indeed. And unfortunate. I made her a tea like any good butler would. After such a labor she needed rest. Maybe there was something she was allergic to? She was very weak from the beginning. Arthur wasn't even surprised. Heartbroken, yes, but not shocked." Walter waved a hand. The wires glittered and rustled softly, like deadly leaves in a breeze. "The past is over. It should be let go." He shot Mira a glare.

Caitlyn nodded, her lips a pale line. Her eyes were locked on something only she could see. Maybe it was just the nothingness of existence itself. And suddenly the vampire queen realized Caitlyn was hoping for the same thing she did: That it was all an act, a part of the plan Walter had devised all by himself, without telling anyone. Walter was still her partner. And her feelings – how foolish! - hadn't changed. Another human stupidity, the same that had brought her into submission over a hundred years ago. Then again, five hundred years ago, suppressing feelings had not helped her either. If she was to learn she was cursed, Mira would not even have lifted an eyebrow.

Either way, she had her orders. Time was what they needed. If she was to fight Walter with all her power, it would be over in the matter of minutes. Seeing how she could easily dispatch the Major and all his lackeys alone, it did not make sense to buy time like this. But she was only a servant. She did not question orders.

Caitlyn began to laugh. Mira winced. Walter stared at her open-mouthed. "What the-?"

Caitlyn's laugh was less than pretty, with an edge of hysteria, but none the less genuine. She sounded like, in her eyes, the situation was the funniest thing in the world.

"My admiration, Major," she exclaimed, spreading her arms in the glare of the zeppelin's spotlights. "I'd applaud if that was what you wanted. You really are a genius, Max. I can call you that, right?" There was no answer. For once, the Major gave no witty reply. Even without seeing into the panorama windows, they knew even he was stunned.

Caitlyn brushed a auburn strand out of her eyes. Her hand was steady, as if she was just relaxing on the beach. She started to pace up and down, like a teacher explaining an especially difficult problem to his class, one that agitated him a great deal. She was talking loudly, louder than Mira had ever heard her speak more than a few seconds at a time, and not stuttering once.

"In 1944, Mira and Walter went to Warsaw, to destroy a top-secret German project titled "das Letzte Bataillon". They succeeded, or at least it seemed as though they did. The Major, his lead scientist, and of course his lupine bodyguard escaped, somehow managing to beat Walter without killing him. For an organization that unscrupulous that seems strange." She looked at Walter and smiled. "They recruited you back then. But only days later an unsuspecting Mira turned you into a vampire, out of her own affection and loneliness, rendering the deal redundant. That's good, right? Traitor turning to good and all? Well, over forty years pass. Arthur becomes a father, his wife dies. Thirteen years later he gets sick and dies, only one year before his daughters falls ill and perishes as well." She preceded Walter, who let out a sharp, indignant snarl.

"I'm not saying you had anything to do with it. I'm merely summarizing the facts. Integra was supposed to free Mira, but she failed to do so. Maybe it was your own fault for saving her from her uncle too early." She ignored Walter's frustrated growl and went on, her hands in her jacket pockets.

"She died, and for almost fifteen years nothing happened. Of course, Arthur knew you wanted your partner free, so the seal could only be broken by a member of the Hellsing bloodline. The mercenaries, that fat guy – was that you too? No? I thought so. Anyway, Hellsing was literally revived, with a 16-year-old, clueless orphan as its leader. Don't want to know the odds for that to work out. Mira is free, yay, everybody's happy." She paused, a hard line appearing on her forehead, like she was thinking of something she would not speak aloud.

"Then Mira meets Alexander Anderson and something happens. And you get jealous, because he's suddenly more interesting for her than her... boyfriend or as whatever you see yourself. And Max, strategist that he is, finds out about it, through some spy we overlooked. I'll just assume it wasn't Walter. What would a real vampire want from rip-offs like Millennium, after all? No, once the battle starts, you lure him to you, maybe with the werewolf?" She looked at Walter and seemed to have her conclusion confirmed. "And you tell him he will get the chance to fight Mira once she has defeated Anderson." She broke off, breathless from talking so much. "Not treachery in a technical sense, that's right. Just a crime of passion."

"Ye're telling me, tha' this whole thing is aboot tha' vampire and she-" Anderson looked to Mira, to Walter, to Caitlyn, then again to Mira. It would have been funny to see him that flustered, if the situation hadn't been so ridiculous already. "Thas ae joke, richt?"

Walter narrowed his glowing eyes. "Maybe you should look after your protegees, _Judas Priest_. I have the feeling they could need it."

Anderson tensed. "Whit did ye do?"

"Walter-", Caitlyn said, her voice sharp with anger, finally overriding her horror.

He pointed to the far end of the zeppelin, where smoke was flowing from the hull. His deadly web rustled as he moved. "I didn't do anything. That is, I even helped them. But I'm afraid I was rather late. I know, inexcusable for a butler. My apologies."

The paladin's eyes flickered between the two vampires. This was his one and only chance at defeating her. When this was over, she would gather her powers again and he would have lost. The kids could protect themselves. They should, at least. But now a nagging feeling had settled into his stomach, making him nervous and gnawing at his concentration. He had been a father to them and it was his responsibility to take care of them, even now. If not logically, his heart told him so. They were his children, in a sense.

Mira shot him a grim glance. "I'll be waiting. Once this... annoyance is taken care of, we shall continue our duel, at the same premises." There was a cold fury in her features, but also hurt and disappointment. The paladin and the vampire queen looked each other in the eyes for a moment. Then there was a flutter of pages, gleaming in the softening dark, and Alexander Anderson was gone.

Caitlyn was praying. She wasn't even making her appeal to God, not thinking of specific words or phrases. It was just a vague plea to an even more vague force above, a force that was hopefully benevolent, not just some indifferent, threatening being, amused with their struggles.

Mira would have laughed. They were the same.

The little human was hoping for the leader of Iscariot to fulfill his part. After all the betrayal, the lies, the deceit, the slaughter, her innermost feelings had not changed. Wavered, yes, but they now stood fast and stern again. After all this, she still trusted him, against every reason.

_But love is blind, and lovers cannot see._

Such a foolish girl. So vulnerable. So human. Like the countess always wanted to be. Like she had pretended to be.

"Monsters don't love," Mira said and leaped at Walter.

* * *

_Airship "Deus Ex Machina", main corridor, September 22nd, 4.30 am_

Heinkel wiped blood off her face. It didn't change a thing about her appearance.

"Well, that was disappointing," she said. She smiled, but the ice never left her eyes. Yumie surveyed her friend from the corner of her eyes, but didn't dare to show her worry too openly. Heinkel was going to rip somebody's head off when she was in that mood. Not a big surprise. Yumie herself felt a surge of crimson, hot rage, thinking of Vicky's untimely and violent death. Just an innocent girl, slaughtered by that tattooed bitch. The vampire's death should have been a lot worse than it had been.

_The wicked band together against the righteous and condemn the innocent to death. It is mine to avenge; I will repay. In due time their foot will slip; their day of disaster is near and their doom rushes upon them._

Well, they would take repayment in their own hands. They were the earthly agents of divine punishment. That was the way of Iscariot.

Yumie sheathed her katana, most of the blood already flown off the blade. The lotus effect Father Renaldo had proposed to include was working well. She leaned against the wall, watching her friend change the clips of her guns.

"You think Enrico will make it through this?", Heinkel asked absently.

"He's tougher than he looks," Yumie said neutrally, as she let her gaze wander over the stretch of corridor behind them, the way they had come.

It had been a close call, more than once. All those vampires in a narrow corridor against only two humans. But it hadn't done them any good. The arrogant provost lieutenant Lauch (Yumie still wondered why Heinkel kept laughing about the name) had vastly underestimated them. The vampires, with their blind blood lust and lacking a decent strategy, had begun to mow each other down on accident, not expecting the Chaos Girl's speed and skills. The biggest threat for the paladins turned out to be the ricochets. Only vampires could be so colossally stupid as to use automatic fire in such confined space.

The fire bursting out from the fallen bodies, a yellow and bluish flame in no way natural, had added to the chaos. It took only seconds for the corridor to turn into an inferno. Even now the steel floor was too hot to touch or walk on, and smeared with black. It was impossible to make out how many of the remaining vampires had been dealt with. Not that it mattered.

As much as that took the fun out of fighting, at some point, after about three or four minutes at the most, they just dashed around the corner and waited until the chaos cleared. They had planned on putting down any remaining enemies, but as it turned out, except for one vamp fleeing past them in a panic, there were none. On the contrary, the spray of bullets and the fire had not only consumed all of the attackers, but also some newcomers checking what the fuss was about.

Smoke stung in their eyes, the air smelling of blood and fire. Their pumping blood calmed down a bit, now that there was no immediate danger to expect anymore.

Yumie's breathing had been even the whole time, controlled by her will. But even will, anger and adrenaline couldn't suppress a twang of pain in her stomach. Yumie let her breath flow out quietly, her arm settling on the thick bandage in a protective motion she felt only when it had already happened. She could feel the thick gauze under the rough canvas of the mercenary's uniform. The clothes were actually quite practical, she had to admit, and the men had stitched her up well. Maybe her body only felt hot from the exhausting fight, but she was certainly not imagining the seeping feeling where the bandage was.

"You okay? Did they get you?", Heinkel asked. Yumie brought out her best smile, not bothering to look what others would call sane or normal. She was still thrilled from the fight, despite Yumiko whimpering in fear and pain. During the fight, she had woken up and insisted to take her part in this battle. Yumie hated to do this to her protegee, but she was also glad about a break from the pain. Nevertheless, she had to get Yumiko back to sleep and take full control again. Protecting the girl was her _job_, her whole _purpose_. It was the reason she was in existence in the first place.

"I'm fine," Yumie said, but didn't look at her partner. That was too risky. Heinkel knew her too well, she would have seen a lie. It had just been a standard question. Partners looked out for each other.

She sounded doubtful either way. "Okay." There was a question mark at the end of the word.

"Okay," Yumie said firmly, pushing away from the wall while murmuring to Yumiko. But as tender as the girl was, she was also incredibly stubborn.

"Enrico is not as fragile as we thought. At least he's back to his senses now." Yumie spotted the scorched remains of a plan on the wall just between the burned and the clean part of the corridor. They walked up to it, careful to avoid the sprained parts of the floor.

"Uh-huh," Heinkel confirmed, looking at the plan. "Though he scared me a bit up there."

"He's got Lisa to cover him," Yumie mused. "And if it really was like she said, he somehow managed to fight his way out of this crowd of monsters."

Heinkel nodded, but still didn't sound happy about the answer. Yumie understood. She thought the same. They had this conversation just for entertainment reasons. And because sometimes it was necessary to check all points of view.

"He's injured, though. A few broken ribs at least. And a bad hit to the head." Heinkel shot her a glance. "Aside of that, what was that about the vampire bitch in the mansion?"

Yumie snorted. "Thanks, Mum, I'm fine," she snapped and turned around abruptly. "Let's go to the command center and see what's going on."

Heinkel made a show of shrugging as if it was no big deal. But she couldn't hide her worry. She didn't want to lose anyone else. She would rather give her own life than see any more of her family die. Life was all about sacrifice. The only important question was, if the price had been worth it.

They followed the corridor. Everything looked basically the same, with a varying number of curves and doors, but always with the same metal plates covering floor and walls, vibrating softly under their feet. The plans and signs showed them the way. It was ridiculously easy.

The command center should be right ahead. Enrico and Lisa would probably be there already. Enrico was not the kind of person that let things like revenge be taken out of his hands. He would take the Major down personally. It was only square. That fat, grinning bastard had it coming.

The Chaos Girls didn't meet a single vampire on their way. They heard their heavy boots pound in the distance, sometimes even just around the corner, but never saw anyone else. Nobody bothered to turn on the lights either. All hallways were draped in a mild dimness, not dark, but also not lighted enough to show many details. There had to be a fire, somewhere at the back of the zeppelin, from what the vampires said to each other. Nobody seemed the least interested in them, or even searching. They passed a big hatch that had to be some kind of entrance and eventually reached a crossroad.

"Did we run in circles or something?", Yumie asked, frowning. There was a scorched, stinking part of hallway just a few meters in front of them. Heinkel shrugged.

"Awesome." She shook her head, her gaze falling on the signs on the wall. "They still got a telegraph?", she murmured. "Seriously?"

There were steps approaching from the direction they had come. The Chaos Girls spun, their hands at their weapons in less than a second. Red eyes glowed in the dark, way off the ground. Whoever it was, he was a lot taller than the vampires, maybe even as tall as Anderson. His steps were measured, as silent as a cat's, just audible enough for them to notice. He approached them slowly, showing off he had the time. Eventually, his shape became a little clearer. It was a man, as tall as Anderson and probably as strong, but more slim than bulky. He wore a dark green military coat down to his ankles, the collar turned up to hide the lower part of his face. Most of the rest was covered by a cap on his thick, silver hair. A few curly strands hung out under the hat. Red eyes gleamed in a tanned face, immobile, without expression. He seemed to scrutinize them, but it was hard to tell. His eyes were strange, not just their lifeless expression. The color was not the red of vampires, more a pinkish-red, with a faint gleam, like an albino animal in the headlights of a car.

The Chaos Girls were frozen in their position, weapons readied, but not yet drawn. Heinkel recognized the uniform from history lessons: The coat of the German Africa-Corps. Of course he was one of them. The question was how strong he was. He didn't really look like a vampire. There was power radiating from him, an aura of feral strength and age, touching their most primal instincts.

The man extended a hand, making them almost lunge at him. Attacking was always better than defending. One motion could cost your life. But they stayed where they were.

The man's palm was turned upwards. He bent his fingers, one, two, three times, waving them to him, beckoning. A challenge. He wanted them to fight him.

Heinkel and Yumie exchanged a glance. They didn't need words to understand. This conversation was merely for formal purposes.

_Can you fight?_, Heinkel asked, clearly referencing the injury from earlier.

Yumie had still her hands full with the terrified and agonized Yumiko, but replied with an almost invisible nod. Her eyes flashed in annoyance, just to prove her point. _Of course._

They attacked at the same time, without a warning. Yumie's katana sliced the air where the man's head should have been, faster than most humans could have even imagined. Heinkel's bullets hit home in the man's chest.

Then he was gone. The paladins stopped, back to back, looking around in the dim corridor. Every sense was scanning the surroundings, their nerves tingling. There was nothing. It was as if the tall albino had just been a hallucination.

"Where did he go?", Yumie whispered, her eyes wide in the twilight. She had seen her fair share of monsters, but this was new. Smoke curled around their legs. No, not even smoke. Fog.

"Yumie!" Had Heinkel reacted only the fraction of a second later, they would have been dead. But she didn't. She tackled her friend aside, against the wall, out of the way of a blow that ripped a hole into the floor.

They crashed to the ground, Yumie's stomach crying out in protest. _Never stop. Being stationary can be deadly._ They got to their feet again, balancing on the edge of a crater of ripped and dented metal, leading way down, to a different part of the zeppelin. The red-eyed man stood at the other side. He had lost his hat and silvery hair spilled over his ears. He beckoned them again and then vanished into the crater.

The Chaos Girls looked at each other, both out of breath and visibly shaken.

"If he's a vampire, I'm a poodle," Heinkel eventually said. They looked down the crater, but could see nothing but a fuzzy white fog. The hole went way down, to stacks of crates and...

"Is that a submarine?", Yumie whispered.

Heinkel shrugged her shoulders, grim. "Could be a trap."

"Probably is," her partner confirmed. "But we can't let him run around either, can we?" They looked each other in the eyes and came to a conclusion.

Yumie went first, her katana swung over one shoulder. The fall was not far. She landed on a stack of crates only three or four meters below and got to her feet again. Heinkel followed a moment later.

"Whoever built this storage wouldn't get a license in normal businesses," Heinkel joked, just to keep her senses alert. She had never seen such a big storage before, not on something mobile. The room was supported by thick steel beams, with holes to reduce weight. It spanned what looked like at least half a kilometer and was a good thirty or forty meters high. Crates were everywhere, still with the original labels from World War II, stacked high as houses, some lying in a mess. Even a whole submarine rested in the ship's belly, complete with the red, white and black flag flying from its side. The perfect place for an ambush.

Worse, they both had the distinct feeling their opponent didn't have the need for an ambush. He could kill them easily if he chose to. They had to end this before he did. The ground was covered in mist. "You go right, I go left?", Yumie asked.

"Sure." They both went ahead, spying in every direction, until they reached the edge of the pile.

It exploded under their feet.

The crates shattered like twigs. Heinkel managed to jump to the right, landing safely on a smaller pile. She would have loved to shoot at the attacker, but she only had a limited number of bullets and no idea if her partner might be in the way. The man stared at her from these weird animalistic eyes, then he vanished, leaping to a higher level where he was out of sight. Heinkel swore and looked for Yumie. Was she okay? Despite her tough words, she was injured and not as agile as usual.

Yumie had landed almost on the ground, between shattered wood and... "Gold?" She got to her feet, shaking off pain and weariness as best as she could. The crates had spilled their fill all over the floor: Gold. Coins, bracelets, necklaces, even teeth. In between were bits of silver, from a different stack.

All the things they stole from the poor people in concentration camps. Heathens or not – this was simply wrong. Those bastards even bragged about it. They would pay for their crimes. Iscariot took care of that.

Yumie spun at a noise, seeing Heinkel land in the pile of gold, tangled in what looked like the man's long coat, speckled with blood. Yumie ran to her partner, who was already sitting up, trying to tear free of the fabric. There was blood running from her nose. The blonde paladin cursed, rubbing her head. Her hazy green eyes cleared, but only slowly.  
"Crap... what...", she murmured, rubbing her head.

A white shape rushed over them and landed far away. There was an ear-shattering drum sound from above. The submarine wavered, four large dents in its metallic side. The paladins froze.

On top of the submarine, a giant white wolf emerged from the fading mist. It was as big as an elephant, with thick snow-colored fur, a snout like an industrial shredder and burning red eyes. Its claws had dug into the metal like it was paper. The aura of wild, primal power was not compressed in a human form anymore. It was making the air vibrate. _That's it_, Yumiko said suddenly, making her protector wince. _That's Father Anderson's force of nature._ She sounded strangely calm.

The wolf lifted its head and let out a deafening roar, making the whole room shake.

"He's- He's a werewolf," Heinkel stuttered, her eyes wide. They couldn't move. They had seen a lot, killed many things, even one or two werewolves, but none of them had been like this. The had been just rip-offs, like Millennium was a rip-off of real vampires.

The wolf lunged at them. Yumie let out a childish, startled squeak and dodged, shoving Heinkel in the opposite direction. The glistening teeth missed them by inches, tearing a shred out of Heinkel's coat. They both stumbled, rolled over the floor, and got up again, one on each side of the beast. There was a wild scent to it, of primal desires and deep forests and blood.

The wolf swung his giant triangular head from side to side, trying to determine which one he should devour first. The paladins took that decision from him by starting to run, both to his back. There was no way they could hit the heart in such a position, but Heinkel shot at him either way, aiming for the eyes. The wolf roared, blood gushing to the floor, and suddenly was a man again, white fur and mist rising from his arms and cheeks. Now that the coat was gone, they could see more of him: His face was dominated by a stark jaw, neatly shaved, and a slender, muscular body, with the muscles of someone actually using them to fight. In any other case he would have been "hot as fuck", as Vicky liked to say. Had liked, Heinkel corrected herself. Fury washed through her. This bastard had helped and maybe even been friends with the bitch that killed her student. She dodged a blow that seemed weirdly casual and emptied her magazine into his chest, aiming right for the heart. He didn't seem to mind, despite the silver bullets. Instead he catapulted himself backwards, his feet ripping a hole into the hull of the zeppelin as he charged again. Hot wind swept into the room. Heinkel dodged him by an inch. She could see Yumie getting ready for a deadly strike from behind.

The werewolf spun, impossibly fast, his leg swishing through the air at the charging paladin. Yumie saw it coming, and wanted to dodge. Pain shot through her stomach, a fierce agony that paralyzed her controlled motions. She stumbled, the green-clad leg about to hit her head-on. Her last thought was: _This can't be._

The expected impact never came.

Instead, Yumie was flung aside by another force hitting her from the side. She crashed to the ground, crying out in pain, rolling over piles of gold and silver and coming to a rest on her belly. Time seemed to slow as she lay there, unable to move, in pain and under what seemed to be a malevolent force locking her muscles.

Heinkel had pushed her aside, out of the way of the werewolf's strike. The beast had been playing them all along. He could have killed them in the matter of seconds, but for some reason he hadn't. _Maybe he just wants to die_, Yumiko said. Her voice was soft, curious, disconnected from everything, even Yumie. _He wants a worthy death in battle. If he's stronger than you doesn't matter._

The kick caught Heinkel in the ribs. Yumie could hear an awful shattering sound, blood erupting from her friend's mouth. She was thrown back, right through the hole in the wall, and vanished in the night.

Falling, the paladin heard her own voice, four years back. _The day I fall is the day I die._ She thought to hear her partner's voice and wanted to tell her to take care. The battle wasn't over yet. Then everything went black.

* * *

Do I even have to not apologize for my cliffhangers?

Nothing to explain this time, wow. I'll try to keep my weekly rhythms, fingers crossed.

Feedback, guys?


	30. Lonely Road to Absolution

Oh man, I'm late again! Sorry guys. But I can promise that there will be another chapter soon (if I don't forget to upload again *cough*).

Here we are, the big finale, part one! I already know that, because I'm almost done ~ What a weird feeling. Aaanyway, without further ado, have fun!

* * *

**Chapter 28: Lonely Road to Absolution**

_Airship "Deus Ex Machina", laboratory complex, September 22nd, 4.40am_

Steps echoed on the metal, more quiet than one might guess from heavy boots in an airship.

"Do you smell that?", a rough voice asked.

A more high-pitched, smooth voice answered: "Vhat?"

"Blood. A human. I can hear his heart beat." The footsteps stopped, just around the corner.

Enrico froze, pressing his back against the icy wall. He was standing in a door frame, concealed by shadows. But shadows didn't concern monsters. They saw right through it. It was their home.

The metal let goosebumps run down his body. He could hear his heart pounding, fast and heavy, pumping adrenaline through his veins. No wonder the vampires could hear it. You didn't need to have enhanced hearing for that.

A drop of red entered his vision. The trickling caused an awful itching, like something crawling over his skin. The gash on his forehead must have opened again from the sudden motion. Of course, everything had to go wrong exactly when they could not afford any problems.

Enrico wasn't exactly keen on facing at least two vampires, all by himself. They would have him before he could draw the sword. And even if not, he was not that confident in his abilities. Vampires and familiars were two very different things. He had a feeling the sword might protect him again, but he was not arrogant and suicidal enough to look for a fight. Aside of that, he just had no time for it.

There was a sound like someone slapping on thick fabric. "Don't be silly," the first vampire laughed. "Ve've got it all over us. You are imagining zings. Let's go before ze Doktor sees us. I can imagine better zings zan helping him pack."

The footsteps continued. Enrico closed his eyes. He knew it was illogical. He had better chances at surviving if he could act fast. It was the only way he might survive an encounter. But a child-like part of him was in control now and it knew if he couldn't see them, they wouldn't see him either.

The steps turned a corner and came closer. His lungs burned, only seconds away from bursting. He hadn't even noticed he was holding his breath.

"So he really plans to flee? Vhat does ze Major say to zat?"

"Nothing. I suppose ze Major just doesn't care. He has fulfilled his purpose."

The vampires didn't stop or turn. Their steps and voices faded away and vanished. Enrico let out his breath, very slowly, as silent as he could. Although he needed all his willpower to do so, the act of drawing in another breath was conducted in the same manner. He opened his eyes.

No vampires waiting for him, laughing. He was alone.

The next breath was a mixture of a gasp and a relieved sigh as his body followed its ferocious demand for oxygen. His heart rate sped up to that of a sports car before finally calming down a bit. Enrico shook his head to clear it, wiping the blood off his face. It clotted his hair and he brushed the wet strands back impatiently. There was a reason he was wearing a ponytail most of the time.

Following the signs he figured out by Heinkel's translation and his own guesses, he sneaked along the corridors. This part of the zeppelin was different from the others. The floor was coated in a layer of what looked like plastic on a hospital floor. Everything was more smooth, more sterile, and the walls were white instead of dark gray.

More steps. Enrico dashed into a door frame, only to find the door he wanted to steady himself on ajar, and crashed to the ground. He barely managed not to scream out in pain as his ribs protested. If the vampires had heard him, they didn't stop to check. They laughed, but Enrico couldn't understand what they said. It sounded a lot like a joke about that Doctor.

They faded away and Enrico scrambled to his feet. Now that the pain in his chest died away, he noticed he had fallen right on the sword. That would cause bruises on his hip. At least that matched the pattern of those he had everywhere else already.

He looked around, curious. His fingers found a light switch. The glare of big neon lamps stabbed at his eyes after constant dimness. Enrico cursed, squinting. The room was full of tables, some of them with rolls at the feet, stacked with papers. At the far end was an operation theater, still covered in blood. At the right wall were – thank God – consoles and monitors. He had found what he was looking for. Now everything should be done in a matter of minutes.

Then again, when he was already here, he could just as well look around for a moment. What harm could it do?

He started at the right corner next to the door and went along the walls anti-clockwise, letting his gaze wander over the chaos, waiting for an impression to jump at him. Metaphorically, he hoped.

Most of the room was covered in papers, folders and the likes, not everything clean from smudges he didn't really want to investigate any further. Even the walls were plastered, filling every space that was not occupied by anything else.

Here and there, in between the masses of paper, equipment hid from the light of day, or light in general. There were also boxes with jars in them. Nothing indicated its usage, except for a general air of scientificness. Enrico didn't dare to touch anything and walked on. He stopped again when one of the pages on the wall caught his eye.

Like all of them, it was covered in tiny letters. The lines were perfectly neat, but the handwriting was a mess. Even if it hadn't been in German, Enrico could not have deciphered a bit of it. And people kept telling him about bad handwriting?

The text was only interrupted by drawing of various anatomic motives, organs mostly, some of which were in a state that could make your stomach turn. They didn't even need a caption. The doctor was brilliant, a genius in almost every field, it seemed. But that didn't make this any less disgusting.

The left wall was covered by a red velvet curtain. The installment stuck out from the chaotic lab like a sore thumb. It was a pompous curtain, like one would expect on a theater stage. It just didn't fit into this whole scenery. Under normal circumstances one could hide a door or something behind a curtain like that, but in here? That was so obvious no marginally intelligent person would do that.

There was a golden plate fixed to the curtain.

_No. Anfang_

_HIM_

The rest was just three lines of German text. The Nazi eagle with their symbol was stamped into the metal as well, giving the plate the official look of a monument.

Enrico was fairly sure "Anfang" meant beginning in German.

_What could possibly go wrong?_, Enrico thought and pulled away the curtain.

A skeleton jumped at him.

His startled cry came out as a pained whimper while he stumbled back, barely loud enough to be heard over the ship's coughing motors. The curtain, on the second glance moth-eaten and shaggy, ripped and fell to the floor, stirring up a cloud of dust. It itched in Enrico's nose, but he refused to sneeze, knowing it would only send another bolt of agony through his chest. His hand was already resting on the hilt of his sword. He stared into the gray cloud, waiting. Nothing moved.

When the dust settled, it revealed a skeleton, but none of the sort that could jump at anyone. As far as Enrico knew that was not possible in any case. He really hoped it was.

That particular skeleton was browned by age, but as clean as it could possibly be. It had belonged to someone of Lisa's size. Its arms were stretched out behind it, as if it was handcuffed, the chest leaning forward with the head lolling. The bones were knit together with thin wires. Leather belts were wound around its limbs and ribcage, resembling a straight jacket, letting it dangle a few inches over the ground.

Not moving an inch closer, he studied a smaller metal plate that had been screwed to the skeleton's head. And suddenly everything fell into place.

_William Harker_

_No. 00000_

The man the vampiress had desired over a hundred years ago. She had forced him to drink her blood and drank his in return. Abigail van Helsing had rescued the boy, but even so, he must have been unclean for the rest of his life. The vampire was bound, not dead. Some of the blood had to be in there somewhere.

That was how Millennium managed to create the vampires. It was nothing more than a rip-off, just what everybody had called them all the time, without so much as guessing at the truth in these words. Artificial vampires were just echoes of this one damned vampire, cheap copies.

Vladimira Draculea, the vampire queen of Transylvania.

"Hell...", Enrico muttered._ And I thought it couldn't get any more weird._ He looked the skeleton over again. The poor boy. But his journey would end tonight. It would all end. If his soul hadn't already passed on, it hopefully would when all of this burned. And it would. Iscariot would personally take care of that.

Enrico turned around in a sudden motion that made him wince in pain. He stalked over to the control panel. Time to get to work. There was no chair, but the panel was built high enough he could type in a relaxed stance, like for someone with legs a lot longer than even his.

For a while, it was completely silent while Enrico struggled his way through an interface he had never seen before. Of course, the Nazis didn't use one of the standard operating systems. No matter what else he thought, Enrico had to salute the scientist for designing this, probably all alone at that.

Which didn't change the fact that there were no passwords, nothing that resembled a security program even remotely. They had obviously never heard of the Internet.

Still, uneasiness had settled into his stomach. If all of this was self-designed, he had no idea if he could manage the coding. It could be in German, and not answer to the standard commands at all.

_Worry about that when you get there._

It was easy enough to navigate through some kind of central data base. There were files about every last member of Millennium. The dead ones were already colored gray.

Interesting enough, there seemed to be past members that were _not_ dead. The names didn't ring a bell. Enrico told himself to remember them for later, but he knew he probably wouldn't.

In another register, there were files about every person of interest, sorted by affiliation. Just to be sure, Enrico chose his own file. The screen went blank for a minute, giving him a small shock. Then the words "Passwort eingeben" blinked at him. That was clear without understanding a lot of German. Enrico cursed, but returned to the register. He could probably break into the system, sure, but that would cost him time he didn't have. Lisa was out there, alone, in the midst of these vampires. How could he have wasted time by snooping around here? Everything except for the steps leading to their goal didn't matter.

The shriek of tortured metal from far away made Enrico wince. He was startled out of his concentration. The sudden motion sent another bolt of red pain through his body.

He went still again and listened. It sounded like a fight - or someone trying to hang up a really huge picture and ripped a hole into the wall instead. Had Anderson killed the vampire and now gone to slay the rest of these beasts?

Enrico shook his head and concentrated on his task. Even if, Anderson was only one man, powerful as he was. It would take too long.

He stopped for a moment, frowning, his eyes fixed into empty space. Over the past minutes, he had constantly been thinking about time running out. Why? There was no deadline.

Of course, he wanted to be with Lisa as fast as possible, to check if she was alright. They would get rid of the Major and his battalion, once and for all. But why this nagging sensation? It felt, in lack of a better comparison, as if there was a storm coming and he had to get the laundry in before it arrived.

The screens flickered. They pulled the leader of Iscariot back into reality and he noticed he had leaned on the keyboard. "Merde!" Long columns of blue numbers ran over a black background, then a map unfolded over all screens. No, not a map. A blueprint. The whole zeppelin's construction, laid out on one plan. Curious, Enrico moved over to the screen depicting the command center. He frowned at the words, trying to figure out what they meant. One of it was brighter than the others, a greenish tone instead of blue. When he pressed one of the keys, the green jumped to another word.

A smile spread on Enrico's face. Of course. Here, all the signals from the chips ran together into one register. Every last information Millennium had was gathered in one big archive. The whole zeppelin, from the tiniest air vent to the biggest hatch could be controlled from here. The man who had built all of this had made sure he could get out in case of... something.

Had the Major ever known, even suspected, how much power his right hand actually had?

In the end, nothing could beat dumb luck.

Enrico zoomed in on the command center, frowning at the construction plan. "You sneaky little bastard!", he murmured and let out a chuckle. He worked in silence for a while. After a phase of getting comfortable, the system was easy to manage. Even this Doctor had used the standard codes for reference and included some of the usual technology – for example bluetooth, which Enrico found amusing for some reason.

"Vhat are you doing here?!" Enrico spun, his hand already on its way to the sword. The Doctor was standing in the door, untouched by the seventy years that had passed since the Vatican's files were collected. He was a tall man, taller than Enrico, but thin enough to look like the survivor of a concentration camp. His ribs stood out as fragile arcs under the skin. The edges of his face were sharp as razors. His glasses were thick and equipped with multiple lenses on both sides, giving him a faint resemblance to a spider. He wore a blood-spattered lab coat over some kind of long trousers and a jacket with a zipper, that left his belly uncovered. The blond hair was cropped to ear-length and hung down in two straight lines, without the tiniest ruffle.

The man was panting, sweat rolling over his face despite the chilly air. He was afraid, in a panic.

Enrico smiled at him. "Ah, hello! I thought you wouldn't greet me at all."

The man's eyes seemed to flicker to Will Harker's remains. It was hard to say behind the reflecting glasses. But despite his general jumpiness, he scowled, clearly unhappy his temple had been meddled with.

"Maxwell," he said slowly.

Enrico raised an eyebrow. "Already getting personal, are we? Well, anyway. I'm almost done here. Just one more little thing."

The Doctor took a step forward, unsure what he was supposed to do. Probably call for help. The door behind him slammed shut. He spun and rattled the door, getting increasingly panicked. It was locked. "Y-You! How did you?"

"Get into your systems? Oh, that wasn't so difficult."

The Doctor looked over the room, searching for anything of use, or simply to get an idea. His gaze was jumping back and forth, without any recognizable pattern, just swerving in indecision. He dug into the pocket of his coat, drawing out a remote. The least he could do was turn off the maintenance board and open the door. This arrogant child could not simply do what he wanted!

Steel crashed down on Avondale's hand, shattering two bones. He cried out in pain. The remote was knocked out of his fingers. It soared through the air in a graceful ark before shattering on the floor.

"Don't get any funny ideas," Maxwell said. The Doctor whimpered in pain, cradling his injured hand. Maxwell made a step towards him and he stumbled back against the closed door, falling on his rear.

Satisfied with the reaction, Enrico sheathed his sword and returned to the consoles. "You see, aside of your general... attitude, your cooperation with these monsters to be exact, I admire your work. You really are a genius in so many fields, that much is certain." He typed something. The screens were shining too much to reveal more to the Doctor than faint shapes, but he had an idea what the archbishop wanted.

In a surge of desperate loyalty, the Doctor yelled: "Do vhatever you want to me, I'll never tell you ze password!"

Maxwell stopped and blinked at him. He did so for several seconds, a look of utter confusion on his face. Then he burst out laughing. "Is there some kind of handbook for cheesy villains? Keep the heroic quotes to the big boys. I wasn't going to ask you about that anyway."

The Doctor hesitated, but couldn't help it. His curiosity got the better of him. "You... You didn't?"

Maxwell smiled, but didn't look up. If he could catch him by surprise... The Doctor was taller, maybe ten pounds lighter, but stronger than one might think. Maxwell was injured, the Doctor had known it on the first glance. The pain would slow him down. All he needed was a chance.

"Don't even think about it," Maxwell said with a smile that reminded Avondale of the Major for some strange reason. "I thought you guys want to die?"

The Doctor snorted. "The vampires, maybe. I'm a man of science! We will advance, until we can do what small minds would call miracles!"

Maxwell made a sound of pensive agreement. He typed some more. "You're right. The world is progressing." He turned around and leaned against the consoles, his hand resting on the green stone of the sword. Why did it look so... special? Almost alive.

Avondale suddenly wished he could just squeeze out under the door. All his research – lost. But he could always recreate it. But he needed to get away for that. And he really wanted to all of a sudden. Hadn't Maxwell's eyes been _green_ a minute ago? Of course they were, inherited from his mother. Not the electric blue they were now.

"You see, the Vatican can always use brilliant minds," Maxwell said. "You might be a heathen and heretic, but an universal talent like yours should not be wasted. What do you say?"

The Doctor scrambled to his feet, trying not to touch his aching fingers to anything. "You... you give me a chance?"

"Why, yes," the archbishop said. "You'd need to swear loyalty to us and.. well, would be somewhat restricted in your field of research, but not as much as you might think. You want to help humanity advance, right? Religion and science. The perfect partnership."

"You'd get me out of here?"

Maxwell laughed. "That would be required. Anyway, enough talking. Yes or no?"

"Yes," the Doctor said firmly.

"Great. Give me a minute." Maxwell turned back to the consoles. The Doctor's gaze fell on a heavy pipe wrench. He couldn't quite remember why it was there, just that he had put it on the table this morning. If there really was a God, scientifically inexplicable as it was, he seemed to be smiling down on the savior that was to come. Science could only progress through great minds. One could not simply bind such a mind. Not terminally.

Everybody underestimated him. He was a brilliant man, and like any genius he had his flaws, his problems and tics, but he was not as weak as he seemed. The Doctor's fingers screamed out in pain, but they closed around the wrench and he spun.

A sharp pang of almost physical redness hit his chest. Maxwell was about fifteen centimeters smaller, but having to look up didn't make him less scary. Human eyes were not supposed to glow in the literal sense, yet somehow they did. The white had a somewhat bluish aura, like the glow surrounding a lightning strike. What a curious phenomenon.

Avondale Napyeer slowly lowered his head to see the blade sticking out from his stomach, right under the sternum. He didn't feel any pain, just something hot and wet running over his belly and a nausea that grew stronger with every second. The sword glowed in the same blue. He wished he could have examined it.

"I thought so," Maxwell said and somehow managed to sound truly regretful. "Admirable, but still a shame. You picked the wrong party. Loyalty is a strange thing, isn't it?"

The Doctor almost answered. Yes. Feelings were a strange thing. The only aspect of humans he never truly understood, no matter how hard he tried. His body had become numb. He didn't feel his impact on the floor. The world had already gone black.

Enrico pulled the sword from the scientists body, wiping his eyes with his free hand. They felt weird, not really itching, more like the echo of an itch, a pressure that had no real source.

"I really thought you'd be cleverer," he told the body. He wiped the sword on the lab coat and sheathed it again. He would have wanted the scientist on his team. With Cristoforo and the others, Iscariot could finally become independent from spiteful idiots like Bernard or Makube.

Enrico finished the line of code he'd been typing and pressed enter. This was all. Now on to the final battle. What a ridiculous term. He was not a knight, although he bore a sword. He was no hero. He just did what had to be done, no matter what others thought.

That was the nature of Iscariot.

* * *

_Airship "Deus Ex Machina", storage, September 22nd, 2016, 4.45 am_

"Heinkel!" Somehow, Yumie had gotten to her feet again. Hot wind punched her in the face as she leaned out of the zeppelin, trying to catch a glimpse of her friend. She couldn't be dead! They were flying! Heinkel never fell. Never. That was one of her trademarks.

But all Yumie could see was London, the roofs not far away. She could easily jump down from here, land safely, and go looking. Heinkel could have caught herself on one of the roofs.

Smoke drifted along, flames licking out of the zeppelin farther back, blending into the mixture. The zeppelin sagged in a sudden jerk as a ripple ran through it. Yumie's free hand clenched around the jagged rim of the hole. For a second, she was floating, the universe trying to determine if she should fall or stay. She threw her weight back, another burst of pain exploding in her stomach, and landed on the metal floor.

A distant part of her mind already calculated how much time they had left. It wouldn't take long for the fire to spread. If the gas chambers were filled with hydrogen, the airship would go down in the matter of minutes.

A foot crunched on the spills of gold and silver. Yumie turned her head and looked right at the gigantic snout of the white wolf. It was barely inches from her face, the hot, meaty breath washing over her.

_Yumiko?_ There was no answer. Yumie looked for her friend, but all she heard was a faint echo. A sigh, almost relieved. A wave of grief and rage rushed over her, a tsunami washing away her indecision and paralyzing fear.

No. It would not end like this.

Yumie screamed in fury and leaped to her feet, ignoring the searing in her chest. Her katana drew a red line over the wolf's snout and the beast stumbled back, as if surprised. Then he howled in a wordless challenge and his fangs clamped down on her. Yumie didn't try to evade him. Instead, she threw herself forward, ducking under the snapping fangs, her blade aiming at his heart.

_I'll kill you! You don't deserve to live, you stupid monster!_ She didn't feel the tears on her cheeks. Red splashed on her face, hot and stinking blood, as her blade sliced through the wolf's stomach. It roared in pain and swiped one child-sized paw at her, rising on its hind legs, impossibly big and threatening. The cut steamed and hissed, where the silver edges of the katana had touched it. The wolf fixed her with his burning eyes and crashed down again, trying to smash her. Yumie dodged the paws, but the shock wave threw her back. It was accompanied by a deafening explosion somewhere behind them and suddenly the zeppelin tilted to the left.

Yumie tried to grasp for a beam sticking out from the rapidly steepening ground. It was dislocated, just another piece of rubble in this chaotic, destructive night. Yumie slipped and suddenly fell, somersaulting down a slope, accompanied by tons of gold and silver. The werewolf yelped in surprise when he lost his footing and tried to find something to hold on. His claws raked the floor, leaving huge gashes, but the metal was too weak to hold its weight against its intended use.

The left wall of the zeppelin was coming closer, now almost parallel to the ground. The precious metals gathered on the hull, stretching it to the breaking point. There was a bang and the hull exploded outward, wealth raining down on the empty city.

Yumie fell, small bits of metal hitting her painfully. Time stretched once again. Would she see her friends in Limbo?

There was another jerk and she crashed on a metal floor, bouncing off and flying again, this time in a different direction. The zeppelin straightened up, the rising side hitting the wolf in the flank. His bones broke audibly and he roared.

Yumie wasn't aware she was lying still until the noise faded after a while. Somehow, she was still in the store room, now riddled with gold and silver, but freed of the crates and piles. Her blurry vision cleared and she stared at a red, white and black flag. The submarine hadn't left its place, being fixed to the floor and walls, but had toppled over, stopping inches away from her.

Her body was a mass of pain, big and small injuries, too much at once to make anything stand out as the worst. But she could still move. Somehow, she could move. She had to. Revenge. She had to get revenge for her friends.

Yumie got to her knees. She had lost her katana, but from the ripped and tainted floor, one of Heinkel's Desert Eagles laughed at her. It had gotten stuck in a corner, shattering the wood of the hilt, but the barrel seemed fine. Yumie grasped at it, her hand closing around the loyal weapon.

A cramp hit her. She didn't have enough air to scream. A red wave rolled over her vision. The world stopped to exist in the agony in her stomach. She doubled over, coughing. She tasted blood. It dripped from her lips on the floor, where it joined the pool leaking from her midst.

No. Not yet.

"I'm impressed. Really, not bad for a human."

Yumie opened her eyes and got to her feet, slumping heavily against the upturned roof of the submarine. Hot blood was soaking the uniform, running over her chin, but she stood, her free arm pressed against her stomach.

Walter looked her over and smiled. Maybe Mira was right after all. Humans were really interesting. This woman... her strength and determination to avenge those she loved... He could smell her blood, mingled with the wolf's. Her eyes were still burning, despite all she had suffered.

The werewolf tried to get up, fixing his broken body bit by bit. Blood was dripping from his snout. Slowly, he turned back into a human, equally mangled.

"What are you waiting for, Iscariot?", Walter asked the paladin. "Finish him. I'm not your enemy."

The werewolf leaped at Yumie, still not fully healed yet. He didn't even attempt a trick, no dissolving into mist, just a plain attack.

He jerked back in mid-motion. The wires wrapped around his wrists and ankles, even around his neck, cutting into his skin, but not yet severing his limbs. Tiny droplets of blood ran over his skin, painting a complex pattern.

"So?", Walter mocked. "After such a long time, we meet again. Goodbye, arsehole."

Yumie had never been good with guns. She preferred the clean, beautiful art of the samurai. But beauty didn't matter now.

She raised the Desert Eagle and pulled the trigger.

The gun barked once, sending a shock wave through her hand. The muzzle stayed steady. A whiff of burning power hit her right in the face, accompanied by the click of a casing being spit out.

The silver bullet embedded itself in the werewolf's heart. He jerked back, the wires ripping into his bones with a horrible tearing sound, then loosening as he crashed to the floor in a spreading pool of blood. The hole was small, almost insignificant in all the carnage.

His dog tags shattered on the floor, too quiet to be heard over the strained humming of the motors outside.

The werewolf's eyes closed, opened again, slowly. A small smile crept over his face. Then he laughed, without a sound. Blue flames erupted from his body, sending out a wave of heat. The flag on the submarine caught flame. The fire rose into the air, forming the shape of a wolf. His last howl echoed in the zeppelin and out into the city.

Yumie lowered the gun, her fingers locked too tight around it to let go. She didn't feel her legs when she walked over to the hole in the wall, every movement stiff and automatic. She didn't even feel the scalding hot air.

The roof was in front of her, barely more than a step. She got out of the zeppelin and onto the street, though she did not remember how. She found what she was looking for and slumped to the ground. The Desert Eagle cluttered to the bloody pavement.

In the east, the sun began to rise.

* * *

_Shakespeare's Globe, London, September 22nd, 2016, 5 am_

He widened his fangs in a yawn and stretched every muscle. The spot was not exactly comfortable, despite the pleasant heat from everywhere. It was autumn, the air cold and wet. But not tonight. Tonight this city was his oven to warm on.

Schrödinger shook the lethargy from his limbs. The great theater to his left had been reduced to cinders, gleaming red and smoldering in a pleasant heat, the smell of burning wood creating the dry scent of a campfire. He hadn't had a campfire in decades, he mused. The other boys had done that so often, but him? He had never been one of them.

A flapping sound made him turn. He stretched out one hand and caught the scorched remains of an advertisement. _ng Hen_, one half said. Then the was a hole and three fourth of a _V_. Schrödinger returned the poster into the hot winds and saw it being swept away over the Thames, gleaming in all shades of red and orange.

Rip had always been into theater. Even the Doctor had called it "important" - for what, Schrödinger could not understand. Why should it be fun to watch people do anything if nothing went wrong? It was simply boring.

He stood up and flicked his ears. Somewhere there, on the other side, Alucard and Anderson were fighting, maybe Walter as well. It would almost be a pity to see him die.

Schrödinger giggled, remembering the fight seventy years ago. Finally someone interesting had turned up, even someone that was – or rather looked – his age. Too bad he couldn't stay. Then again, Schrödinger had been more than busy with getting the girls out of there alive.

His ears shot upwards when he heard a long, haunting howl. Schrödinger narrowed his eyes. So that was it. The Captain was dead, too. The whole Battalion was making its last exit tonight. Hopefully the werewolf found the peace he had wished for. He was one of the few that deserved it.

Or, as far as Schrödinger was concerned, the only one he really cared about. Who said cats and dogs had to hate each other?

He turned his eyes to the rising sun. Here, everything was darkness and fire. Soon the sun would be up and the play over, like the Major would have said.

"Vas it fun, Herr Major?", the cat boy asked. "Did you get vhat yu vanted?" Well then. Everybody else was gone. All that remained was him, that nobody ever took serious. That nobody would ever accredit anything to.

Schrödinger grinned. Ah, what did he care? He was just in for the fun. The Battalion, the war, it was all puny power plays and showing off. It didn't matter to him as long as he was entertained. Now that the Battalion was gone, he needed a new occupation.

There had been a time he would have thought different. When he had been bound to them by more than his desire to keep himself amused. All those faces swam past him, human, werewolf, vampire, and everything in between. Oh yes, it had been way different back then.

Schrödinger pulled the dagger out of his belt. Another little reminder, a gift from the great, self-important Max Montana to his pet. The hilt was warm from lying against his body and the blade was sparkling in the red lights of the fire.

_Meine Ehre heißt Treue_

"My honor is loyalty," he said softly, his eyes fixed on the swerving zeppelin. A great accomplishment of technology, about to crash and falter in these streets of the dead. With it the last traces of all their efforts. And the rest would be swept away by Iscariot and Hellsing when they recovered. They would, rather sooner than later.

"Life is cruel, isn't it, Herr Major?" Schrödinger dug the blade into his throat. The pain was short and boring. The warm steel cut through flesh and bones, severing tendons and muscles with ease. Hot blood splashed over his uniform, and fell to the ground like rain. Schrödinger giggled, feeling the rush of air rustle his hair like a gentle, caring hand as he fell.

Faces rushed past him and then he was one with the stream. A new sensation. This sure would be interesting.

* * *

_Fleet Street / A201, London, September 22nd, 2016, 5 am_

"This is Father Anderson to all paladins. Evacuate the vicinity o' the airship. Request back-up fae situation assessment. We need tae rescue the injured. Everyyin else reports tae Father Renaldo fae -"

"Father Anderson..." Anderson knew the voice. Chico Martinez, the one who always got nervous but was one of the best young talents they had. His voice was rough and shaken. "Father Renaldo is dead."

Anderson stopped abruptly. For several moments he was unable to say anything. "W-Whit do ye say o' me? When? Hou?"

"A building collapsed on the street. It- It got Angelo too." There was silence on the radio. Anderson was suddenly very aware of the sounds of the fallen city. Ghouls moaned while they stumbled along. Flames licked into the sky, consuming whatever got in their way. Lone shots and screams echoed in the distance. The stench of blood and innards tainted the air, of fire and smoke. Flickering lights illuminated everything in an eerie glow. The air was scalding hot, interrupted by cold gusts of wind from above.

"Ah see. Who's the next senior team leader?"

"You, Sir."

_Has it already come that faur?_ "Make contact tae oor home bases and... jus' clean up this mess. Ah'll join ye soon."

He continued his path. Over him, smoke was curling down from a burning motor at the side of the zeppelin. The red and black chessboard pattern almost brushed the roofs of the buildings. An airship could not carry its own weight without the gas. It would crush everything in its wake, which was a lot for a thing this size. At least they didn't have to worry about that. It would rather burn to a crisp before.

Marco was dead. Angelo was dead. All the senior paladins were either fallen or missing, except for him. The whole crusade was destroyed. When had things turned so fatally wrong?

Anderson saw them from meters away. They were in the middle of the street, all alone. The occasional ghoul wasn't remotely interested. Anderson began to run, some cold part of him taking in the details without tainting them with emotion.

Heinkel was lying on her back, perfectly still. Among the smears of grease and blood she had borne before, her lips were dark where her own life's essence had seeped out, over her chin and throat. It had dried there, forming red arcs running towards her neck. She was pale, and lying very, very still with her eyes closed. One hand was twisted in a strange way.

Yumie knelt next to her, rocking back and forth in a slow, hypnotizing rhythm. Her arms were pressed to her stomach. She wore a mercenary's uniform, Anderson noted with a hint of confusion. The brown fabric was tattered and torn in various places. The chest region had been dyed the color of red wine, soaking her sleeves as well.

Yumie raised her head when she heard the approaching footsteps. She was lacking the usual alertness and care she displayed in a fight. Even her typical wildness had dissipated. She simply took in Anderson's presence without reacting to it in one way or another. There was blood on her lips and chin was well, as well as various tiny scratches and bruises all over her skin. Blood clotted her dark hair.

Anderson knelt down beside her and carefully lifted her chin with one hand.

Yumie's violet eyes were dull. She understood what was going on, he was sure of that, but it just didn't concern her anymore.

"Lassie," he said softly. "Whit happened?"

The young woman's disconnected expression didn't change. "She's gone."

Anderson shot a look at Heinkel and refused to give the ball of barbed wire in his stomach any more grip on him. "Who's gone?"

"Yumiko." Yumie's eyes went blank for a moment. Even more blank than they already were, if that was even possible. "She... vanished. She's dead. Wanted to help me... Just like Heinkel..."

A tear ran over her cheek, a single silver drop, gleaming in the red lights all around them. "In the mansion... The vampire got me... I wanted to help Heinkel... avenge Vicky..." Anderson was an old hand, experienced, used to hard decisions. He had gotten too many shocks in this night to feel this one with full force. Still, the barbed wire hooked another thorn into his insides. He didn't want to think what would happen once this was over.

Victoria. Heinkel's secret student.

Of course he had known. But he thought the training might do the girl some good. Now everything made sense. The cold fury in Heinkel's eyes. All the blood.

Yumie answered his unspoken question, almost apologetically: "Heinkel didn't bring her. On the contrary, she forbid her to accompany us. Vicky sneaked in among the others. That vampire bitch killed her and left her as a challenge. We got her, of course."

Anderson didn't clear his throat. He rarely did. Instead, he paused before speaking. "Whit aboot Yumiko?"

Yumie looked past him. Another tear slipped from her eye, but her voice was calm and factual. "She insisted to keep some of the pain away from me. So I could fight. We went with Enrico and Lisa. There was this werewolf. We fought him and he kicked Heinkel out of the zeppelin..." She blinked.

"She saved my life...", Yumie said softly, as if she only realized that now. One hand brushed tenderly over her friend's palm. "I killed him. The vampire helped me. That butler. And... when I looked, Yumiko was gone. It was too much for her." A shiver ran through her body and suddenly a sob erupted from her throat. Anderson laid an arm around her. The young woman slumped against his chest, burying her face in his jacket. She had no more strength left to uphold whatever protective wall she had built.

Anderson let her cry. There was no shame in it, after all that had happened. But the pool of blood around her worried him. How long was she already bleeding like that?

"Is Heinkel dead?", she whispered, her words muffled to a point Anderson could only guess what she was saying. "I didn't dare to check."

Anderson pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth, not daring to let go of Yumie. Tremors ran over her, so violent he feared she might just break apart any moment. She certainly would not survive much longer if she didn't get help for that bleeding.

He held a hand in front of his former student's face. It was a formal gesture, just for protocol. He almost jumped at the small spot of warmth appearing on his hand.

She was breathing!

"She's alive, but who know fae hou lang." Yumie didn't show a reaction. She had stopped crying. For a second, a bolt of panic shot through the paladin's thoughts, not feeling a movement or even breath.

But then she sighed quietly and rested her cheek against his chest, like she had as a little girl. Her eyes were fixed on her friend's body. Anderson activated the radio again, while searching for a pulse under the dried blood. He could feel her body struggling for breath, weak, but steady, and a slow, stuttering heart beat.

There was only static.

Shadows danced over them as the zeppelin swerved. Its snout was turning away from the cathedral. Anderson shook Yumie, a gentle push. She looked up at him with glazed eyes, like a sleepy child.

_Yes, Sir?_

"Can ye walk? We need tae get oot under the airship before..." Before it crashed down on them any moment. Enrico and Lisa were still up there. But he couldn't take care of everything at once.

Yumie nodded and struggled to get to her feet. She was standing for only a second, before she fell to her knees again with a bone-chilling scream. She pressed her blood-smeared hands to her temples.

"Yumiko...", she whispered. "No..."

Anderson swore under his breath. Calm down. One step at a time.

He got his hand's under Heinkel's limp body, trying to pick her up. He froze. Something was not right. He could feel an edge in her lower back, an edge that did not belong there. A spine should not move like that.

A gray wave of hopelessness swept over him, something he had last felt when...

When he had been searching desperately for Josephine in that loch. When his little angel had almost died because of that damned kelpie. It was the same blasted thing over again.

He was supposed to protect them! Curse that vampire, and curse that Major, and curse the Pope for making them go to war like this!

_Even if she survives, do you really think she wants to live like this? Heinkel would rather die than be useless. You know that._

_There is another way._ Anderson winced.

"Marco?" He looked around, but of course he was being foolish. Marco was dead. He had probably already passed over into Limbo. Nevertheless, he had a point.

_Ah dinnae want tae burden her wi' something like tha'. It's ae gift, but also ae curse._

His hand wandered to one of the many pockets of his coat. It was still there, unscathed despite the events of this night. His hand closed around the syringe. This had to be a sign of God. The girl had saved him from a big mistake. It was his duty to save her, if he ever wanted to find something resembling peace after this night. He couldn't just let her die.

Yumie was still muttering to herself. Anderson shot her a glance. She would hold out longer. Hopefully.

A low, humorless chuckle escaped him. Vladimira was probably waiting. It was a one night show. His only chance to slay that inhuman monster. Was it justified to give his feelings a priority over his duty? Maybe sacrificing many for those two girls?

As far as he knew, the serum was a test object. It could just as well kill her. Hell, he almost hadn't made the transformation.

He peeled the layers of her sleeve back from Heinkel's wrist and plunged the needle in. The serum was the color of lilac and seemed to have a mind of its own, vanishing in her veins in seconds. The paladin pulled the needle out and tossed it away.

_It's ae curse. Having tae see yer friends and family age and die. Ae monster tha' denied God, ae monster tha' affirmed God. It's a' the same shit._

Heinkel didn't stir. Of course not. Even the best science didn't do miracles.

If she would end up like Kenzy?

Either way, it was too late for doubts now.

The motors of the zeppelin roared overhead and then the last vampires began to fall. Those who had not had their fill yet, or those who didn't want to die after all. Their leaders were gone, and they saw their chance to flee. Anderson looked up, wondering if it was worth the bother.

It wasn't.

There were whiffs of flame, accompanied by surprised shrieks. A new wave carrying the stench of burning flesh brushed over the humans and was carried away. Coated blue and yellow, the remnants of the Last Battalion fell, glowing comets reduced to ash before they hit the ground.

Anderson rested Heinkel's head on his knees and pulled Yumie into his arms. There was nothing else he could do but wait and pray.

Soft gray flakes began to fall like snow, covering everything in a fine layer. They danced in the wind, illuminated by the soft, searching fingers of morning.

The pale rose-colored stripe of sunlight over the horizon was getting wider every minute, sending its pale vanguard into the blackness, turning it to a smooth, dark blue.

The night was almost over.

* * *

_St. Paul's cathedral, London, September 22nd, 5 am_

Caitlyn was picked up. There was a rush of air and suddenly she sat on the ground on the other end of the battlefield, her head spinning. A dark shape vanished and lunged at Mira again.

Mira laughed, a shrill, ugly sound. "Always the good butler. Of course." She evaded the wires and charged at Walter, drawing her guns. The Jackal fell to pieces right there.

"Don't forget who got you that weapon. I thought you might need it against Anderson, but... I suppose it doesn't matter anymore."

Mira discarded the pieces with a contemptuous growl. She couldn't believe he had planned this from the beginning. It had been so shortly after she had met Anderson for the first time... Then again, in the wake of a storm there was plenty of time to plan.

The wires wrapped around her and threw her into a building. Stars exploded in front of her eyes. This was interesting. She didn't really want to fight anymore. Not for now.

_Are you getting a mid-life-crisis, or what?_ She was thrown around and felt flesh rip, but didn't pay attention to it. She would win, yes. She always won in the end. She always came back. But at what price. In the end, she was always alone. How many years did she have with her husband? Around ten. With her family, her father and Mircea and Radu before he became a traitor? With Walter?

_You idiot shouldn't have interfered!_

Baskerville's howl shook her out of her thoughts. The dog opened up like a book, its halves falling to both sides, without doing the slightest damage. Mira sighed. Another familiar, gone. Her last. But he had always been just a trick, something Abigail had thought up to give her power a better shape. In the end, it didn't matter.

"Fight!", Walter demanded. "Come on, give at least a little resistance before I kill you!"

Mira got to her feet, staggering. He had the form of a child again. Well, then it would be best to follow suit.

Walter snarled at her. "What are you doing?"

"This is barely more than the rebellion of a spoiled toddler," she said. "I should have known. I changed you too early. You weren't ready." She closed her eyes. There was no attack. "I shouldn't have dragged a child into this."

Still, nothing. Only the sounds of the city. Caitlyn was shaking audibly, shifting around on the rubble. She was probably not the enemy the Major had expected or wished for. What a pity. Her talents would be better used to rebuild. She would get through it. That was the beautiful part of humans: They recovered. They rebuild. They laughed again.

Mira opened her eyes. Walter was standing there, the wires forming a glistening net behind him. He stared at her, without the anger that had driven him to his betrayal. There was regret in his features and... sadness? No. Disappointment.

The blood began to move at its own accord. Mira looked down. It floated towards Walter, gurgling like a clear creek in summer, purling away happily. Fountains erupted from the corpses, joining the stream. It flowed over debris and everything in the way, merely covering and uncovering it. The power was drawn in from the whole city, all those dead and dying, thousands, millions of lives.

Right. She had almost forgotten how strong he had become over time. He was not one of these ridiculous fakes, and he had not yet become tired of his immortality. That happened. One in a hundred years, maybe. They were different.

"You obviously don't see me as a real opponent," Walter said. A contemptuous smirk corrupted his mask. "Well, if we're already done here, I suppose you don't mind me getting my share of the buffet."

* * *

Feedback? :)

I'm so excited about this fanfic. Hell, I've been working on it for months now ~ I didn't even expect there was so few left to do during my hiatus.

What do you think? How will it all turn out? Who wins, who dies? (Did I forget anyone?)

Hehe, see ya soon!


	31. Blood Red Skies

**Chapter 29: Blood Red Skies**

_Deus Ex Machina, September 22nd, 2016, 5am_

The corridors were empty. Blood coated the walls, already mingled with smoke and ash. His feet kicked up small clouds where the last vampires had met their unexpected end.

The Doctor should really have thought better than making it possible to trigger all chips at once. But he had been as brilliant as he was paranoid. If he needed to make a getaway while the Major still cared about it, it would have been necessary. He would have been a remarkable addition to Iscariot. It was about time they got their own technical department. Relying on Section IV was way too risky in times when everybody tried to bring them down. Bernard would be unreasonable, so they would have to take what they could get. Luckily, that was the easy part.

The zeppelin tumbled from one side to the other like a drunken bumblebee. Enrico barely noticed it. With the vampires gone, Lisa should be out of danger. That left only this "Captain".

Most of the doors in between were already open. One wasn't. The generators were slowly failing, and this part of the airship was only illuminated by holes in the walls and a soft blue glow.

Deep in thought, Enrico stopped in front of the door. He laid a hand on the metal, his blue eyes unfocused, far away from reality. The rational part of him was thinking about how he should approach this final opponent and what it would be like. The rest wondered if Lisa was okay and tried to hold the fear of the future at bay. They hadn't lost, right? Maybe he didn't have to end up in the dungeons after all.

He didn't see the blue spark running from the sheath. The door slid open and he continued his path.

The end of the corridor was marked by another thick, electric door. It slid open by its own accord, revealing a giant Nazi Eagle and a swastika painted on the floor.

Enrico didn't take a deep breath or stop to get himself together. He wouldn't stop shaking until he had a shower and at least twelve hours of sleep. He was exhausted and terrified and, more than anything, furious. At Millennium, at all these idiots from the other Sections, and at himself for being such an arrogant, greedy asshole.

He stepped over bits of broken glass and piles of ash. His feet made crunching noises that seemed impossibly loud. The command center was very quiet, too quiet in such a raging battle. The room was gigantic, the walls weren't walls at all, but a myriad of screens. Some of them were broken, but the rest was enough to show what was happening.

Enrico stopped, trying to understand what was going on. Why were the vampires fighting against each other? Vladimira and the butler were on the same side. Or had been, at least. Where was Anderson? He couldn't be... Could he be dead? Could the vampire have actually defeated him?

No.

He mustn't believe that. There was a different explanation. After all these losses, it couldn't have been for nothing.

"Ah, welcome." The shrill voice made him wince.

Fixed to a mechanical arm suspended from the ceiling, there was a leather chair, like the most eccentric comfy chair in the world. It had its back turned towards him, facing the screens. Now it turned in a slow circle, revealing the Major in all of his insane glory. He was just as small as he had been described, around 160 centimeters. The fabric of his white suit strained against his pudgy flesh, especially the roll on his stomach. The puffy cheeks were split in a wide grin, his golden eyes shining in the dim lights. He looked every centimeter the madman he was.

Lisa was nowhere to be seen.

The Major looked Enrico over from head to toe, taking in every detail, from the borrowed coat, over his sword, to the battered look in general. His smile didn't change a bit while Enrico refused to turn his eyes away and just glowered at him. He was only hoping the Major didn't notice how furiously he tried to figure out what to say. His peripheral vision in the meanwhile tried to notice any disturbance, hoping for Lisa to be here, hiding. He had taken care of the vampires. She would be perfectly fine.

It was delightful to see the Major frown, as if displeased. Maybe he wasn't such a sorry appearance after all.

"You are not ze vone I expected vhen I came here," the Major said, eventually. "But, none ze less, I am... impressed you made it." His eyes wandered from Maxwell's fluorescent blue eyes to the sword again. "Ze Doctor vould haf enjoyed taking a look at zis."

Enrico didn't get the obvious reference. "I already paid him a visit. A brilliant man. You were lucky to have him." He couldn't help a smile when his gaze wandered over the ash strewn everywhere. "Maybe not that lucky."

The Major shrugged. "He vas always a bit... overbearing."

"Surely," Enrico said, giving his voice an edge of sarcasm. "Loyal, too."

"Zose are the only vones vorth employing. Now zen, don't you vant to kill me? Attack me, revenge all your fallen friends." He stood up and walked towards Enrico, stopping a few meters away with his hands behind his back. When Enrico didn't move, the Major smiled a bit wider.

"No? Zat surprises me. You don't seem to be such a forgiving type. What about ze lovely Miss Volfe or your irreplaceable Vather Renaldo? All zese paladins and crusaders... maybe even ze population of London? It's your time, Archbishop. Maybe ze last of your life."

Enrico felt the last bit of color leave his face. Heinkel was dead? _Marco_ was dead?

"T-That's a lie."

The Major's smile widened. "Aber, aber... vhich reason vould I haf to lie, dearest archbishop? No, I'm afraid ze "Chaos Girls" found zeir match vith ze Captain. And ze good Vather... vell, sometimes accidents happen in such a turmoil. My condolences."

Enrico clenched his fists. He had to press them against his legs to hide the shaking. This couldn't be!

But of course the Major had no reason to lie. The truth was much more upsetting. Much more painful. "Fine," he spat out through gritted teeth. "Let's get this over with, Major."

The Major laughed as if that was the best joke he had ever heard. "Wery vell. I vas actually hoping for a pretty lady to be my company... but it's too late for zat now, I suppose. Let's enjoy ze show."

"What show?"

The Major turned back to the screens. "Oh, I'm sure you vill like it-" He broke off and for the first time, a look of incredulity and then rage swept over his features. His eyes narrowed to tiny golden slits.

"Zis foolish little brat!", he said, almost too low to be heard.

Enrico stared at the monitors, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. The blood moved. From everywhere, a giant stream was rushing towards the vampires. And right in the middle stood the butler.

Walter Dornez, the vampire.

Enrico started to laugh. Suddenly he knew what all of this was about. It was easy, really, if you knew where to look. He should have seen it earlier.

Abigail van Helsing had written about it in her diary, and sent everything to a friend at the Vatican, before Stoker could even get the idea of writing his novel. More than one hundred years later, a young priest named Maxwell stumbled over it. And suddenly he had known where his place was. He would become the leader of Iscariot and exterminate every last one of these monsters.

"You were speculating on her greed all along, weren't you, Major?" The fat little man spun, his eyes flaring with rage he could not conceal. Enrico didn't pay attention to him. It was so delightful to say all of this out loud. "Alucard – Vladimira – is not just a vampire. She's a fortress. She has all these souls, all these lives, accumulated in five hundred years of undeath.

"Well, now she's released everything. Of course, she's still a fearful opponent, but you don't have to worry about that because you won't fight her directly. You had Anderson for that, and then you somehow got the butler to turn against Hellsing, for a reason I don't care about. And in the end, the whole point was her drinking all of this."

The Major glared at him without even trying to hide it. "Congratulations, Vather Maxwell. Wery clever. I always knew you vere more zan you seemed to be. But this is not everything. Vhat is ze final point?"

"I don't know," Enrico confessed. "Does it really matter, now that Dornez has ruined your whole plan?" He smiled innocently. "Seventy years of preparation and you lose, because you misjudge one player. How does that feel? Your whole existence just became pointless."

The Major ignored him and turned back to the screens. "Nein. It ist not over yet. I haf not yet lost."

"Yeah, tell yourself that," Enrico said. The Major liked to hear himself talking. Time to rub his own attitude right into his face while he could. "You made several mistakes. First, your spies failed for one reason or the other. You didn't expect the butler to be a vampire. Then you misjudged his strength. Vladimira's river of death is scary as hell, but Dornez is a vampire of her blood and he had lots of time to train. He is not as powerful, but he has access to the same mechanisms. And it seems to me that he doesn't like being pushed around. Whatever you wanted to happen to Alucard will now happen to him. And I just have to sit back and look what comes out of it. Actually, that's the best outcome possible in this situation. You get rid of the butler and Anderson will kill Vladimira, by her own wish. Isn't that..."

He thought how Marco had nodded him goodbye in France. How Heinkel had leaped over the railing of the boat or how she had winked at him before he and Lisa went down the corridor, leaving the Chaos Girls to tend to the vampires. The stories they had shared, the good times, the bad times, everything.

"...perfect."

* * *

_St. Paul's Cathedral, September 22nd, 5.15 am_

A splash of blood hit Mira in the face, hot and sweet. She wiped it away with her finger and licked it off. The taste was wonderful, full of life. She couldn't get enough of it, even so many years later. Walter didn't say anything. Even he needed his concentration for such masses. But the blood stopped, floating in midair, gurgling on the ground, before it reached him.

"Ladies first," he purred, spreading his arms in a mocking gesture. "What kind of gentleman would I be to act in any other way? Don't you want your fill, queen? Let's carry this out until the end. Unless," his lips twisted in a snarl. "You want to take your chances. Maybe, if you have killed me a few thousand times, you can finally go on to your duel with the Judas Priest. Your precious Anderson."

Mira closed her eyes. "You silly, silly boy. Is this all this is about? That you are afraid of being alone? Or your ridiculous jealousy? The Major was right – you were just a tool, no matter what you might think."

He barked a bitter laugh. "Don't flatter yourself. The Major is as much an idiot as you are a dog. You just follow orders. I act by my own free will. I choose who to serve, or if to serve at all. And it's certainly not the Major."

"Was it that horrible?", Mira asked quietly. "Arthur was always a tyrant, wasn't he?"

Walter raised his eyebrows, pretending not to have understood. Mira shook her head. "Forget it."

He could not take being a dog of war, unless it was out of his own free will. It would be a waste of time to point out the flaws in his logic.

The only thing that was important now were Caitlyn's orders. "Master."

"Oh, don't start with that!", Caitlyn snapped at her. Mira blinked at the sudden anger of the young woman. Minutes ago she had been trembling with fear and indecision. "You are doing whatever you want anyway! I can't believe two people as old as you are behaving that childish! Walter, you always get pissed on being called a child. I never thought I'd say that, but maybe you should stop acting like one then. A vampire love triangle for God's sake. You got to be shitting me!"

Walter and Mira exchanged a glance, just out of habit. For a second, their shared confusion turned back the time a few days.

It was always better to be angry than to be scared. Even if Caitlyn wanted to, what was there to do for her? The archbishop took care of the Major. The rest of the Last Battalion had gone up in flames, literally. There was nothing more to do until morning came and the outside world was let in to clean up whatever was left. Mira and Walter were the last act of the play.

The vampire queen looked at her former partner and understood. He was already strong, his own controls in full effect. If he drank the blood now, he would take in all these lives and just kill her.

Would it be so bad to die at the hands of a loved one?

No, it was not. But she was a servant to Hellsing, which Walter had betrayed. That obliged her to destroy him, no matter what she wished. And once he drank all of this blood, that was next to impossible.

_I'm sorry, Alexander._ Mira returned her gaze to Walter. "Well, if you ask me like that. Very considerate to put your lady first. I always knew you were a gentleman."

* * *

_Airship "Deus Ex Machina", September 22nd, 5.25 am_

The Major's smile seemed to split his face in two. It was the most disgusting expression Enrico had ever seen. The fat man settled back in his chair.

"Didn't I tell you? It ist not over yet."

"So, both are done for, if everything works according to your plan." Enrico spread his arms. What the hell. Did it really still matter now? "Surprise me. Explain your evil plan."

The Major acknowledged the reference with a snicker. "As you vish. You see, ze great nosferatu, vampire queen Vladimira, and her loyal, desperate friend Walter are going to disappear vithout a trace."

Enrico raised one eyebrow and returned his gaze too the monitors.

The blood seemed to glow all by itself as it flowed towards the vampires and disappeared into their mouths. They weren't contesting about it. They shared. As if it was a nice night out for two friends. No matter what, if they were to fight now, it would take very, very long.

The outside speakers cracked loudly when he opened the channel. The Major's clapping echoed over the dead city like thunder. He snickered again. It was the sound of someone that just asked to be punched in the face the moment he opened his mouth.

"Vhat an amazing show," he said. "Zat ist just ze var I vanted. All for zis one moment."

"Shut it," Walter snapped. "You lose, Major. This was never about you. You're just a self-important idiot that wanted his great moment to die."

"Ah, still so fierce. Maybe, maybe. In ze end, I don't really care if I die or not. But zat does not change anyzing. I win. You lose." He almost sang the last words.

Mira and Walter looked at each other and laughed. "Who are you talking to?", Walter mocked. "Her? Or me?"

"Both of you," the Major said softly. "It was never intended to happen like zis... but fair enough. It vill be a most interesting experiment. How sad my dear friend Avondale cannot see it anymore."

The two vampires laughed the Major into his figurative face. "Who is left to defeat us? Your cat boy? I'd want him to try."

Several meters above, the Major sat down in his chair and folded his legs and hands. "Ah, who knows."

Enrico took a step forward, but stopped again.

The cat boy. Right. What had been his name? Schrödinger? Like the physicist. Like the _quantum_ physicist. Changing behavior depending on whether they were observed. Changing their state. Able to randomly change position, just appear somewhere.

Particles were a strange thing.

Objects or living things couldn't do that. It was impossible.

Or was it?

The nature of a vampire was to divide his being among the souls it devoured. What would happen if you combined both phenomena? It was mere science-fiction. A joke. Nothing like this could actually exist.

Just like the River of Death wasn't supposed to exist.

The Major smiled at him. "Ah, I see you figured it out. And ze young Lady Hellsing too. Wunderbar. Just in time for ze big climax."

Indeed Caitlyn had gone a few shades paler, giving her freckled face a grayish tone. "The crusaders," she murmured. "The London population, the Last Battalion, even Walter and Anderson and... all of them. For this."

The sun rose over the horizon, tainting the sky red and orange in a magnificent glow.

* * *

_London, near St. Paul's cathedral, September 22nd, 5.30 am_

"You lose," the Major repeated in a sing-song tone of voice.

Mira laughed. "I lose? You must be joking. I don't lose. I never will. There's no way a lot like you could beat me." The light blinded her and Mira broke off. Her eyes stung from the brightness, but she didn't close them. The light... was beautiful.

Crimson washed into orange and into faint yellow and white, not breaking off, just flowing. It sent soft, gentle fingers over the survivors in the midst of the ruins. In this light, one could almost think there was no evil in the world, no hurt, no pain. Just this beautiful, pure light.

_What is this? What am I seeing? What..._

But she knew.

"What is this?", Walter asked. He hated the sun so much. Yet now he, too, was frozen in its grasp, not a glare or harsh, hard hands, but soft and gentle. He was young. He didn't know.

"The sun always shone like this," Mira said softly. Her hand wrapped around his. "When I died."

"It's beautiful. I never knew... I forgot."

Mira smiled. "Yes. Me too."

Her form flickered and began to dissolve, myriads of eyes suddenly flowing into a stream around her. The same happened with Walter. How strange that it should end like this, a battle unfinished. Mira watched the sun. It cast its light over everyone equally, good or bad.

Their eyes began to close. Every one of them, one after the other.

Caitlyn stared at them, not the beautiful sunrise. "No," she whispered. "No." She broke into a sprint, crossing the debris. Her foot got caught and she stumbled on. She didn't feel the cuts she got on her ankle as she ripped free.

She crashed into Mira and Walter, falling to her knees. The vampires didn't even stumble.

"This is not supposed to happen!", Caitlyn snapped. "Mira! Walter! Stay with me! That's an order!"

"_Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow. A poor player zat struts and frets upon ze stage and zen is heard no more_," the Major's voice echoed over the Deus Ex Machina's speakers. Caitlyn didn't listen to him.

"What's happening?!"

The Major sounded amused, as if he was explaining something very simple to a child for the umpteenth time. "Zey absorbed varrant officer Schrödinger's essence. He ist... a chesire cat, so to say. He is a self-observing phenomenon zat exists in a vorld vhere the probability of existence, vhere life itself ist equivocal. As long as he is aware of himself as a person, as an entity, he is everywhere and nowhere. But... vhat might happen now zat he ist dissolved into millions of consciousnesses? Even more zan zat! He ist devided into two individuals, both vith zeir own personal river of death. What happens now? He cannot perceive himself as himself anymore.

"He ist neither alive nor dead. Just a cluster of imaginary numbers."

The bodies of the vampires started to fade out, to become translucent.

"Don't you dare!", Caitlyn screamed at them. She wrapped her arms around their necks, pulling them into a tight hug. Their bodies were still there, ghostly and pale. She could smell blood, feel the texture of hair and skin, a three-dimensional human form. But the sensations started to fade away.

"Don't you dare disappear. You're my family. You're all I have."

"We're monsters," Mira said. "That's no family for a good girl like you."

"Don't start with that," Caitlyn spat through gritted teeth. Her eyes were burning. "You've always been my only family. Stop being such idiots."

"Yes, milady," Walter said, a tired smile in his voice. "Farewell."

"Farewell," Mira repeated.

Their voices were swept away by the wind and suddenly Caitlyn was hugging empty air. "No...", she whispered. "Don't go." Her arms dropped like stones, too heavy to lift again. She drew a shaking breath, her vision swimming, her throat hot and stuffy.

A red sigil shone softly on the stones, next to a black tie settling in the dust. Caitlyn grabbed the fabric before it could be swept away. The knot was still perfect, like it was proper for a real English butler. The black fabric was smooth and gleamed in the light of the new day. A soft breeze swept away the stink of fire and dust.

The tie crumpled in her fist. Caitlyn started to sob.

* * *

_Airship "Deus Ex Machina", Command Center, September 22nd, 5.30 am_

Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Very good show." Enrico tried to ignore the pain in pretty much every part of his body, some where he wouldn't have thought he could hurt. But it dulled the edge of sarcasm in his words. Clapping didn't work so well either. Every movement fueled the ache in his ribs. Maybe he was hurt worse than he thought.

_Oh, damn it all to hell_. Not that it made a difference anymore long-term.

The Major smiled. "So zis ist victory," he said, tasting every word on its own. "In mine ever-losing var, I vin for ze first time."

"You lived for this one day? This moment?" Enrico didn't dare to laugh considering his somewhat tender state. Should the Major pick it out from his tone. "That's pathetic."

The Major slowly shook his head, still assuming the air of a patient teacher. "You don't get it, dear archbishop. But zat does not matter. Few do. I've always known zat. But don't you agree it ist a good zing zat zese vampires are gone? Even Millennium vill be gone after zis night. Who knows, maybe ze Vatican can still achieve its goal... Good for you."

"Very considerate of you," Enrico said, now with a real edge to his words. Had he set the timer wrong? Too long? Or did it just not work? Something had to go wrong. That was one of the basic rules of life.

Then again, what should it be? The crusade had been destroyed, Iscariot severely decimated, his career was probably over, along with his life. Heinkel and Yumie were dead or dying, God knew if Lisa was alright. He could only hope the rest of his small family was safe. The woman he was in love with, against God's rules, probably hated him, despite her words.

There were few things that could still get worse.

He better didn't say that out loud, though. He just wanted to go home. That in itself was a cruel joke.

"Still, I'm somevhat dissatisfied," the Major continued. "No offense, but I really vanted the little Lady Hellsing to be ze vone to kill me. It's been so long since I talked to a young voman."

"What a surprise," Enrico said wryly. "My condolences."

The Major shook his head and stood up. "Wery vell. There's no point in pursuing a What-if. I always knew Alucard vould not defeat me. Rather I would defeat her. She was my archenemy, and now... I suppose it has to be you?"

"There's no one else around, I guess," Enrico said.

Nothing happened. "Don't you want to attack?", the Major asked with a frown. This whole business was taking away the joy of victory. It spoiled his great last words. The thought delighted Enrico.

"Would be rather pointless with this in the way." He stepped forward and knocked on the invisible barrier. Hardened and tektite-reinforced glass. The same as the Vatican used, for sure. You'd need some heavy ammunition to get through something like that. Or Anderson. He had neither.

"So you knew all along," the Major said, contemplative. "And you're not angry enough to take a shot either way."

"Oh I'm angry, don't be deceived. Put your great words where the sun doesn't shine. I don't care. Once this barrier goes up, you're dead and that's it."

"Ah, I see." The Major smiled and pressed a button on his armrest. An ancient, gleaming pistol was popped into his hand by a metal arm. He checked the bullets for show and folded his hands over it. "Zen ve vait, I suppose?"

In the failing systems of the ship, something tried to send an impulse to lift the barrier. The motors stuttered and strained.

Enrico took a step forward and laid one hand on the barrier. There was a silver-blue flash that might have been just a sparkle of light on glass. The motors roared and the glass wall slid upwards.

Enrico blinked at it. He was getting a headache. His eyes felt strange, as if he had been swimming and gotten chlorine into them or something. "Oh. Just on time. Great."

The Major stood up and directed the muzzle right at his head before he pulled the trigger. The bullet went wide, ricocheting off a steel beam and clinking to the floor. The Deus Ex Machina sagged, fire racing through its belly, and finally crashlanded right in front of Saint Paul's Cathedral, taking down several buildings with it.

Enrico barely managed to stay on his feet. The Major's hand didn't even waver significantly, however he managed that.

While the ship still quivered from the shock, he resumed at shooting. Enrico tried to shake off the pain and dizziness and stepped forward, trying not to flinch from the bullets. He would have liked a gun now. His aim was way better than this fat, ridiculous manic's. This could be over in just a second. But like this, he had to rely on his sword, which had to be good enough. The Major couldn't have that man bullets left.

A shadow appeared behind the Major like Brutus behind Cesar. Enrico breathed a relieved smile as he recognized the way of movement, the flowing coat – even the dagger. Thank God.

Then crimson swallowed his vision and pain devoured his mind.

* * *

Lisa brought the dagger down on the Major's head with all her strength. It dug into the ridiculous hairline, splitting it to both sides, and vanished down to the handle. Blood seeped out, but what was much stranger: It was answered with the sound of metal on metal.

The Major froze, and his finger convulsed around the trigger one last time. The gun barked with a flash of light and Enrico's head snapped around. He stumbled back and doubled over, one hand already grasping at his face in reflex. Thick red drops splashed to the ground, forming a puddle.

The Major collapsed in his chair with a surprised look on his face. The blade stuck out of his head like he was a stereotype victim to the Indians in a cowboy movie. There was a small trail of blood running over his forehead, then a whole section of the head came off, revealing wires, spindles, turning gears that slowly quit their tasks, one after the other.

"I hit something," he said softly. "Endlich."

Lisa didn't pay attention to him. She ran to her brother, just in time to keep him from falling. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and the pain seemed enough to keep him from passing out.

"Rico! God, are you alright? How bad is it?"

The first answer was an unintelligible mumble. Then he straightened up a bit. Blood had soaked his long blond hair on the left side. "Bastard," he growled, still dizzy.

"Let me see," Lisa demanded. He tried to push her hands away, but the movement was weak. Lisa carefully brushed the bloody hair aside and lifted his chin with her other hand.

She drew in a sharp breath.

From under the left eye a broad red gash ran over his temple upwards, missing the upper tip of the ear by a hair's breadth and ending just in the hairline. Dark blood was running over his face. A lot of blood.

"Can you... open your eye. Please." She tried to touch his cheek, but he flinched away with a hiss of pain. But he blinked, carefully, as if afraid, his pale, tired face set in a scowl. But he opened his eyes and they looked pretty much the same, if somewhat reddened. Lisa threw her arms around his neck. It was acquitted with a groan.

"You lucky bastard," she murmured. "The bullet just grazed you. We have to stop that bleeding, before -"

She felt Enrico's focus shift to the lifeless body of the Major. Lisa let go and turned around. The fat man had slumped in his chair, but his one remaining eye was focused on the siblings and there was a serene smile on his face. With a tiny clink another gear fell down from his open right side.

"He's- he's a machine," Lisa said. Somewhere in her head a child' voice repeated over and over: "That's impossible." After all that happened in this night that seemed ridiculous. Vampire Nazis, werewolves, the River of Death, people nobody thought survived and others died. What was one cyborg in all of this mess?

"Zat's not really polite, Miss Hamilton," the Major said, making them both flinch. His voice was quiet and sounded strangely tinny. "Let me tell you how vonderful it ist zat a young lady has found her vay here after all. I should haf been surprised to see you alone, Father Maxwell."

"Quit this bullshit," Enrico growled. His eyes wandered over the Major, the machinery falling apart. "So this is it. You're a monster yourself."

"Not at all, my faithful friends. I'm certifiably human. You see, ze one definition of being human is possessing his own vill. I'm not like vampires, who haf to take in ozer's blood to go on living. I'm not a pitiful creature like her. Even ze good Father Anderson – he was supposed to use ze Nail and be defeated as a mindless monster of God. Humans are being of soul, and mind, and vill. Even should I be a brain in a glass jar of culture fluid or memory circuits in a huge supercomputer... I'll still be human."

His remaining eye flickered, as if a light bulb was beginning to burn out. His gaze wavered over them both. "I'm not ze same as you. Zat's vhat you vill say, isn't it? Zat ist vhat var comes down to in ze end, and always will. You want to tell yourself ve are not ze same... does it make you feel better, Iscariot?" Lisa tightened her hand around her brother's but surprisingly, Enrico seemed almost calm.

"Of course we're not," he said, every word full of contempt.

A small laugh escaped the Major. "Of course. Tell yourself zat. I came here... to defeat ze vampire queen. No matter if she smiles as a young girl... or kneels in front of her master in ze guise of a veteran warrior... she's a monster. Zat is vhy I hate her." His voice jumped into shrill discord for a second. "She is a monster in the flesh of a human... And I am a human... looking like a monster."

"Die," Lisa hissed. She pulled out her remaining gun and shot him in the head. Her hand was shaking, but she hit him right between the eyes, the bullet digging into the flesh and steel, then into the dagger's blade. The Major's head was thrown back and blood seeped out of the hole.

"Die already!"

The Major smiled. "Ah... it vas... a good var." And then he lay still.

"It's not true," Lisa said, her voice trembling with adrenaline and rage and a vague grief. She put away the gun. "You're not like us. Being human is not simply will or biology. It's what you do. Your actions make you what you are. And you have stopped being human a long time ago."

There was a huff of scalding hot air and fire burst out on the remaining screen, shattering the glass.

"Let's go," Enrico said.

* * *

They didn't look back on the corpse as they ran along the hallways, avoiding the fire. Everywhere they went they were greeted by flame and smoke. The air was growing thicker by the second. Lisa coughed, only making it worse. Her eyes and lungs were burning.

Finally, there was a hatch. It fell out of its frame when they passed by and relatively clean air rushed in. It only fueled the fire behind them, pushing out another wave of heat with a deafening roar.

The airship had finally come down and it wouldn't take much longer until it burned to cinders and ash. The command center was still level with an average building's third floor, though.

Lisa froze when her feet reached the ledge. Since the beginning of the battle, she had forgotten about her most ridiculous and primal fear. They had climbed on a roof and then onto the zeppelin and she had been too occupied with her anger and worry to think of anything else. But her fear of heights was there and now it dug its claws into her muscles.

The fire roared behind them.

"Lisa?"

"I can't." Her voice was drowned out by the inferno. This was ridiculous. After all that happened she wouldn't die because of her stupid anxiety. No, you'll die from a deep, deep fall and the impact on the ground, splattering you all over this already -

"LISA!" Enrico shook her.

"That's got to hurt," she heard herself say. "You're injured-" A bible page fluttered past them. There were figures on the ground. Through a dark tunnel, Lisa realized they only seemed small in her field of vision.

"You trust me, right? I'd never let you get hurt."

She nodded. Enrico wrapped his arms around her and jumped.

Air rushed around them. Lisa wasn't sure if she screamed. She didn't have enough air for it. She heard a voice saying "God be with you". It sounded like Marco Renaldo. Golden light was all around them. The world spun. Then they didn't fall anymore.

Her feet touched the ground and the lock around her body eased a bit. Enrico coughed, suppressing a hiss of pain. Lisa opened her eyes. She hadn't even noticed closing them.

"What happened?", she got out.

Anderson looked more tired and beaten than she had ever seen him, even after fighting his way through to the vampire queen. He knelt on the ground, a weary solemnity on his face. Heinkel's head rested on his knees. She was bloody all over, even more than she had been before, and didn't move. Yumie, too, was smeared with drying red, most of it coming from her stomach. She leaned against Father Anderson's chest, blinking at the newcomers.

"She's still alive," Yumie said. "We won..."

Overhead, there was a roar of flame and sparks rained down. It didn't drown out the sound of rotors coming closer. The helicopter's choppers stirred up a cloud of dust as it came down, making their hair fly wildly.

"Ye're injured," Anderson said to Enrico. The archbishop only shrugged his shoulders.

The co-pilot threw open the side door. Anderson went first, carrying Heinkel. He cringed at something as he picked her up, but no one had the strength to ask why. Yumie went next, aided by the co-pilot. Enrico didn't recognize him and didn't really care. He let Lisa go first and looked back over the rubble before he went in. The sun was illuminating a scene of utter destruction.

Anderson sat, like always a bit too big for the bench, Heinkel's head resting in his lap. She still hadn't stirred. Yumie sat next to him staring at the ground blankly. Lisa fell down on the bench opposite of them.

"Where do we go, Sir?", the co-pilot asked.

"To the next catholic hospital... What about Germany?"

The man stared at him for a moment as if to ask if he was serious. There were Catholic hospitals in England that were a lot closer. But he didn't dare to ask.

"Yes, Sir."

The door of the helicopter slammed shut and they lifted off the ground.

Enrico sat down next to Lisa. She blinked at him. He laid an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. A shiver ran through her body and Lisa began to cry. It was part grief, rage and a basic feeling of being overwhelmed, but also relief. It was over. It was finally over.

* * *

_St. Paul's Cathedral, London, September 22nd, 6 am_

Caitlyn barely raised her head when she heard the steps. Her fingers were once again clenched around Walter's tie and now blood was seeping into the fabric. Her nails had dug into her palms and her fingertips were torn from trying to get the stone out of the ground.

Why should she get away unscathed, after all?

"Lady Hellsing?", a voice with a soft Eastern accent said. It didn't remind her of Mira. Things like that only happened in bad movies. It was a deep, rough man's voice, with a different roll to the R and word endings.

"Yes," she said. Wind swept up her shaggy hair. She could hear helicopters and voices, but otherwise, it was silent. She looked up to see four men in the guise of Section 13, all of them unscathed and clean. The reinforcements? No, they were older than the other Iscariots, at least in their sixties. Probably the coordinators that were unfit for fighting after years of service.

"We are instructed to take you into custody," the first one, a man slightly under average height, his brown hair laced with gray, said. He was the one with the Eastern accent. Polish, maybe, Caitlyn didn't know a lot about the Eastern European states.

"I see," she said and lowered her gaze again. "Can you help me with this?" She made a vague gesture to the stone. For a few seconds, there was puzzled silence. "Please," she added.

"You won't flee?", another voice, an American, asked. He sounded unsure if he should be mistrustful or pity her.

"No."

"Lady Caitlyn!" Caitlyn raised her head to see Seras jump out of a jeep. She looked just as tired as everyone and was splattered with blood, but it didn't seem to be hers. On the passenger seat sat Pip Bernadotte. He didn't make a move to leave the car. To put it very euphemistic, he didn't look well.

The four Iscariots went for their guns. Caitlyn raised her hand. Seras stopped, her eyes jumping between her boss and the supposed enemies.

"It's alright," Caitlyn said. "They will take me into custody. We won't fight. Seras, please take care this gets somewhere safe." She indicated the stone and then held out the tie. Seras kept her eyes on the still holstered guns and stepped forward to take the strip of fabric.

"What happened?", she asked, looking around. "Where are-"

"You'll get the details later. Just... take this somewhere safe. And then help coordinate the... others. Irons and Walsh will surely send in help soon."

Seras shifted nervously on her feet. Lady Caitlyn didn't have the best relationship with the Round Table. But still... "Lady Hellsing, the... Round Table... they're dead. Their camp was attacked from the inside. And... the Queen... she's dead too. As far as we know, her personal assistant was a traitor."

Caitlyn blinked, slowly. "Oh. Henry?"

"Yes," Seras said in a tiny voice.

Caitlyn stood up and wavered. One of the Iscariots grabbed her arm to steady her. She murmured a thanks and looked at Seras. Caitlyn rarely looked anyone in the eyes if she didn't have to for being polite.

"I will go with Iscariot. No harm will come to me. You are in charge of all operations of Hellsing." Her voice was as flat as her gaze.

Seras swallowed and nodded. Talking back was not a good idea right now.

Caitlyn turned around. The Iscariots seemed surprised she surrendered without a fight, but of course didn't complain. Caitlyn stopped again after a few paces. "Get Pip to a hospital. I expect we have a wedding to plan once this is cleared up."

And with that she vanished, escorted by four paladins, and left Seras to figure out whatever came their way now. The young mercenary looked down at the bloody sigil on the stone and on the tie she knew well. Suddenly she didn't want to know what happened anymore. When everything had settled a bit, maybe. Not now.

She heard steps and looked up at Cillian and three more friends. "Help me get that stone." Overhead, the sound of helicopters came closer.

* * *

_A helicopter over the English channel, September 22nd, 2016, 6.30 am_

"We'll be in Düsseldorf in an hour and fifteen minutes," the co-pilot told them through the speaker system. "Archbishop... may we talk to you? There are news."

Enrico slowly raised his head. They had been flying for a while now. Through the windows he could see the bright morning sun reflecting off water, so they hadn't reached the continent yet. He had been dozing, or hoped he had. It didn't change the fact that he was exhausted.

Lisa stirred when he tried to stand up without waking her. She opened her eyes and they were tired, but clear. Her tears had dried up over time and given way to a restless slumber. Or so he had thought.

The question was followed by small movements of the other passengers. Everyone had pretended to sleep to not disturb the others and nothing had come out. Yumie had slid to the floor with her legs drawn against her chest, leaning against Anderson's tree-like leg. She looked even paler than before and just now Enrico remembered she had to be injured as well. She wasn't like Anderson. None of them was. Heinkel lay still and pale under the blood.

Sacrifices had to be made, everyone would say.

Hell, he was done making them, so God help him. After this, sacrifice was just another word for blind stupidity.

Anderson looked after his former student and then lowered his head again. He could hear this and that, fragments of a conversation... Enrico froze, as if something had surprised him. After this night, it was a surprise anything could still shock them.

"...yes, a traitor in the inner circle... could be evacuated... no, he didn't make it... we don't know... new orders..."

Yumie raised her head, and looked over to the door to the cockpit. They had all heard it. Maybe they had forgotten the helicopter still broadcast into their radios, if only partially.

The Pope was dead. Killed by a traitor in the inner circles before the Swiss Guard could stop him. The Catholic Church was without its leader.

The good news were that also the English Queen was dead. Millennium had been utterly thorough. Britain and the Vatican stood at match point now, both in chaos, both without a leader, both deeply shaken.

Anderson's gaze wandered downwards again and was met. He froze. Heinkel blinked at him, slowly. Her eyes were a sparkling violet, the color of ripe lilac flowers, but glowing from the inside. It was the color of the regenerator serum.

Her lids fell shut again. Nothing else had changed and nobody had seen it.

_Ah'm starting tae get hallucinations._

A gust of icy autumn wind rushed over them, accompanied by the smell of salt and water. Enrico stood at the open door and stared at the sunrise reflecting off the water. The wind ripped at his hair and clothes. The red and golden sash flapped in the wind, spattered with blood. Anderson hadn't bothered to notice, but he had been wearing it all along under the coat.

Lisa seemed unsure if she should – and could – stand up. "Rico?", she called. "Enrico, what are you doing?" He didn't answer or turn around. Over the wind he couldn't possibly have heard her. Lisa wanted to jump to her feet, but wavered and fell back.

"Enrico?" An edge of panic crept into her voice.

Enrico took a step forward until he had to hold on to the frame to keep his balance. The sun had lost her warm red and orange colors, turning into the cold golden whiteness of an autumn day. He took off the sash, the elegant fabric with its embroideries scraping over his skin. It flapped in the roaring wind, wanting to escape.

He let go. The sash, the symbol of his life and all his efforts, fluttered away, swirling over the English Channel until it disappeared from sight, just another strange bird in the sky. He stepped back and closed the door before he sat down. For a moment he stared into nothingness, then he sagged, covering his face with his hands. Lisa laid her arms around him. Nobody spoke. The water gave way to dry land.

"Father Anderson?", Yumie said after a while. Her voice was that of a tired little girl.

"Aye?"

"Can you finish the story about the kelpie, please?"

Anderson stared at her for a moment, until the gears clicked into place. Not just what had happened in Scotland, even the telling of the story seemed like a lifetime ago.

"I'm sure Heinkel would like to hear the rest, too," Yumie added, running her fingers through the clotted and dust-covered ashen strands of her partner.

"O' course," Anderson said, unable to contradict that logic. "Where were we?"

"You found the girl caught with the kelpie... she was glued to it or something," Yumie responded.

"Ah." So, Anderson began to tell of a time long gone, where the monsters were easy to determine, and there was little more than black and white, good and bad. A time made better by the pink veil of nostalgia.

The helicopter roared on as a new day began and nothing was the same anymore.

* * *

Wow. I can't believe it's done.

Well, not actually _done _done. I'm still out for an epilogue, but no promises.

Also, if anyone is interested, I have planned out this AU _way _past the Battle, but never have (and probably won't as I'm already planning on two new big projects) actually made a real story of it. I might give a summary if anyone asks for it. (More in the epilogue that is hopefully to come...

Either way, thanks to all my readers and reviewers, all those who encouraged me and followed the crew to this point. You're awesome.


	32. Carry on wayward son

Oh my God, I can't believe it's finally done. This was a lot of work and sometimes I thought I'd never get t done... when I finished the last sentences I was between laughing and crying, possibly both. It's been a good ride, guys, and that's thanks to you. Thanks for all the support and let me ask for feedback one last time.

You wanted a "What happened after", you get one. Enjoy.

* * *

**Epilogue: Carry on wayward son**

_Düsseldorf, Germany, September 22nd, 2016, 8 am_

They heard the whispers. How could they not? Everyone just passing by gave them bewildered glances. They didn't understand what was said but that was not necessary. A bunch of bloody and beaten clergymen and women, clad in what looked like strange uniforms, allegedly weapons in their helicopter, waiting in a hallway, as if they had just stumbled out of hell. Nobody dared to ask any details.

"That dagger was Drake's." Lisa slowly raised her head and looked at her brother.

"Uh-huh."

"Fitting."

"Yeah."

The conversation broke off again as they waited. The worst cases had gone in first. The Chaos Girls. Yumie had passed out seconds before the helicopter landed and Anderson had carried her inside while the paramedics took care of Heinkel.

Nobody knew any details, but everyone knew this little group came from the slaughterhouse London had become a few hours ago. Somebody had asked if the two girls had any family. Anderson had given them the number of Heinkel's parents. Since then they had been waiting in silence.

Time passed. Nobody talked or moved. The only thing left to do was praying.

A door opened further down the corridor.

"Next."

Lisa nudged her brother. He winced, startled out of a mixture of exhausted doze and thoughtfulness.

"You're off worst." Staggering, he came to his feet. The open door was to the right. From the left, he heard quick steps and vaguely made out a shape with long dark curls, clad in tight jeans and a leather jacket.

Lisa shoved him in the direction of the door. "Go."

"I'm the leader...", he mumbled. "I should..."

"You should get yourself fixed up. We'll handle this." He didn't have the strength to argue. Strangely, his steps felt quite secure as he walked to the door. But maybe that was all in his mind.

He was greeted by a tall woman with creamy dark skin and bright red hair. Strangely, she still looked good with it, even though it was clearly unnatural.

The woman made him take off the coat and thin jacket under it before he sat down. Now, after all this, he felt strangely vulnerable. The sword was stored away in the helicopter, awaiting his return.

The woman didn't speak, but her face remained a sympathetic smile while she brushed his hair out of the way, holding it back with a few clips. The strands were stiff from the dried blood by now, raining red flakes on the stretcher. He instinctively winced when they separated from the crust and new blood trickled over his cheek. The woman stepped back and scrutinized him for a few seconds. She got to be a doctor. She wasn't wearing a nurse's uniform, but tight trousers, a pretty blouse and high heels. The complete opposite of Millennium's very own surgeon.

"I'd say we take care of this first before this gets any more messy... or do your ribs hurt more?" Enrico looked into her dark eyes for a second, confused. He hadn't said anything yet. Then again, it was probably obvious. The pain was barely a faint whisper now, like an unasked house guest that was unpleasant, but didn't make too much of a mess.

He shrugged his shoulders. The woman sighed and started to clean up the blood around the cut. He ignored the stinging and avoided her gaze.

"I'll have to stitch that. You will probably get a scar, I'm afraid."

He didn't answer. That was basically the last thing he worried about right now. There was somebody shouting outside, in English with a slight Italian accent. Enrico tried not to listen. He was a damn coward for feeling like that, but he was glad he was in here, away from the reproaches and anger. Because he deserved every last bit of it.

He didn't pay a lot of attention when the doctor stitched up the wound. It didn't hurt a lot. The Pope dead, the Queen dead. They were almost even. Nobody really knew what happened in London and those who did might just shut up about it. Still, so many dead... Makube and the others would try to tear Section 13 apart. Him included.

"Can you tell me what happened to Heinkel?", the woman asked suddenly. Enrico blinked at her, but she had turned away, putting the bloody needle into a small metal cup. A few gears that had been out of order for the last few hours slowly began to spin again.

"...You're... Brenda, right?", he finally asked. "I thought your clinic was in Munich."

"I was on a seminar when you guys were announced. Heinkel told me a lot about you. You always sounded like a decent guy."

"Maybe."

Brenda shrugged and carried a few bandages to the small table next to the stretcher. "Come on, we gotta get an x-ray of your ribs before I do anything." It only took a few minutes until Brenda announced he was more or less okay.

"You cracked three ribs, one on the left and two on the right. Sit down, honey." Enrico blinked at her for a second, but then he remembered Brenda always gave nicknames to her patients. Heinkel had mentioned it a few times. He obeyed and she put on a tight bandage that managed what all the other injuries didn't accomplish: It snapped him out of the thick haze that had surrounded every thought so far. He hissed in pain.

"Now then, what happened?", Brenda asked again. "Heinkel's in the ICU with injuries that would have killed almost everyone, and nobody knows what's going on. Her best friend is off just as bad, and mumbling about someone that isn't there?"

"It's Yumiko... I don't think she made it."

Brenda didn't ask. That was a blessing. It was the first time she showed any sign of how upset she was. Her voice grew a small edge, refusing to quiver. "Did you accomplish what you wanted?"

Enrico almost laughed. "I guess."

"Was it worth the sacrifice?"

He looked her dead in the eyes. Sooner or later he had to face it. So why not now? "Hell no."

A few silent minutes later she released him and told him Lisa should come in, even if she wasn't actually injured.

When he stepped onto the corridor, he met blazing dark eyes framed by dark curls. The eyes were reddened and glistening with remains of tears.

"You!", Alessia spat. She rushed along the corridor with long strides and stopped centimeters from him. Lisa wanted to stop her, but it was already too late. "This is all your fault!"

Enrico had no answer to this. That didn't stop Alessia. "I swear to God, if my sister dies, you are going to regret it! Like... like Vicky." She clenched her fists and hissed, a pained, helpless sound of rage. "Was it worth it?"

Still Enrico didn't say anything. He just returned her gaze. That was all he could do. And it made Alessia even more angry. "This should never have happened. They shouldn't have been there." She spun and suddenly screamed: "It's all your Church's fault! Screw this! Screw your Church, and your Pope, and your God, and you!" And with that, she ran out, trying to get away before she started crying again. The Iscariots looked after her, speechless.

"She doesn't mean it," Enrico eventually said. "Lisa, Brenda wants to get a look at you."

Lisa nodded and went in. Enrico sat down and they waited again. She returned after a few minutes and silence resumed while Brenda went off to somewhere else.

Eventually, another doctor came along, an elderly man that reminded Enrico of Marco for some reason. The man cleared his throat and seemed to be unsure how to get his news out.

"Jus' say whit ye have tae say," Anderson said. He hadn't spoken since he had finished up the story of his battle with the kelpie.

The doctor looked them over. "Ze... Japanese lady, sister Yumie... she's stable and conscious. Ve could treat her injuries and she received multiple blood transfusions." He hesitated again. "I have no idea how one can survive such an injury such a long time." He saw their reaction, or the lack thereof, and continued, growing even more nervous.

"As to... Miss Wolfe is her name? She suffered a minor head wound, a fractured wrist and various sprains... Also, the... the accident snapped the lumbar vertebrae... She's having seizures of unknown origin. Let me be honest, her survival is very improbable. If... if she should make it, she will never be able to walk again. I'm sorry."

"Thought so," Anderson said quietly. He seemed startled by his words, as if he hadn't wanted to say them aloud.

The elderly doctor took the chance to get away. Whatever these poor people had been through, he didn't think he wanted to know. Some things were better left untouched.

* * *

It was white. The walls were white and the ground was white.

No. There were no walls. There wasn't even a real ground. She was walking, but it might as well have been on empty air. She could stomp down or try to touch it and not get a sensual impression of her surroundings. It was just blankness. Her steps didn't make a sound. Not even her clothes were rustling. The air was completely still, if it was air at all.

She had a body, that much was sure. She could see and feel it and her coat was black and violet and gold against the blank background. She was there. Hell, she even had her trusty guns in her holsters, the weight a comfortable reassurance. Everything else just wasn't. There was no sound, no smell, no feeling.

This should be the most disturbing experience ever.

It wasn't.

On the contrary, she felt good. There was a vague memory of blood and smoke and pain, but it seemed far away. Where was she walking to? She wasn't exactly sure. There was nothing to orient on, no sky, not even landmarks. Nothing. But she was going somewhere, she knew that without needing proof.

At such a distance, the figures should be barely more than shadows and shades in this blank world. But she could see them perfectly fine. They were both tall. The man had ashy blond hair, the woman was a few shades darker. She would have gray-green eyes while his were brown. The woman's voice was a bit raspy, like hers. He was a bit more soft-spoken.

She could already hear their voices. Words, stories, songs. She began to run.

They turned around when she was only a few paces away. Their faces had become a blur of memory and pictures on photo paper over the years but now it was all back.

"Mama, Papa!" Heinkel threw her arm around them. There was no cold awakening. No horrific twist. They were there and she was there. After so many years.

"Hannah, darling," her mother said and she sounded just like she always had when Heinkel was a child, still far away from danger and pain. The only times she saw blood was when she scraped her knees or scratched herself while trying to climb on the wide wooden beams in the attic. They laid their arms around her.

There was no indication how much time passed before Heinkel wiped her eyes, the information slowly settling in. Her parents. Her biological parents, the people she never really forgot. She had been a child, and had found a new family. But she never forgot.

"Are they good to you?", her dad asked.

Heinkel nodded and rested her cheek on his shoulder. He was still a tiny bit taller than her. "They're great. You'd like them."

Her parents looked at each other and smiled.

As much as she hated to do so, Heinkel took a step back and looked around. "Is this limbo? Am I dead?"

"Not exactly," another voice said.

She spun and felt her jaw drop. She wasn't sure who to look at first. Eventually, the blond boy wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She just closed her eyes, back again at that damned airport, on that one day that should ruin her life for quite a while. And now she could run her hand through his hair again, and it felt just like back then.

It was the best feeling in the world. She hadn't even known how much she missed him.

"Chris..." He laid a finger on her lips, his eyes sparkling.

"Shht. It's okay. No need to cry."

Heinkel wiped her eyes. "I'm not!"

The others laughed. Chris ran the silver chain through his fingers, his other hand settling in the small of her back. "You kept it."

"Of course I did, moron," she mumbled. Her eyes found his again. "I should have told you. I should have made you stay."

He brushed her cheek. "No, love. Nothing of this is your fault." They had to separate, though Chris stayed close by.

Yumiko stepped up to her, timid as ever. The sight was sobering. "You didn't... how?", Heinkel asked.

But her old friend was smiling. "I did my part," Yumiko said. "This life was never for me. Yumie protected me all along. And I paid back my debt. There's no shame in it."

Heinkel shook her head. "No... but... but..." Her eyes wandered to the last person. The horrific mangle had once again turned into a girl, on her way to be a beautiful, strong woman. No blood, no pain, just a bright smile.

Heinkel wrapped her arms around Vicky. The next second her back hit the not-floor and she blinked up at her student. Vicky grinned. "Told you I'd get you some day."

She couldn't help it, she laughed. "Even now you're rubbing it into my face. Wow." Heinkel stood up and saw the shimmer in Vicky's eyes. She hugged the girl again and pulled Yumiko into her other arm.

"I'm sorry teacher," Vicky whispered. "I was so, so stupid."

The paladin sighed. "Whatever. As long as you're okay now." She closed her eyes. Practical measures. She stepped back, feeling Chris' hand close around hers.

"Where are we? If I'm not dead... is this a dream?"  
"No," her mother said. "You're not dead. This is the verge or what you see as the verge."

Chris continued. "It's up to you, wolf girl. You can stay with us if you want. Leave behind the material world. That means you will die there."

"Or you go back," Yumiko added. She looked worried. "We can't guarantee for anything though. The regenerator serum has kept you alive so far, but your injuries were very bad. You might... have some issues."

Heinkel tried to remember the injuries she had sustained during the battle, but she could not remember any details. "Is this some kind of martyr's death? A one-time chance?"

Chris laughed. "God forbid, no. Even if you go back, we'll be waiting for you here. The dead don't care about time, love. It's all up to you."

Heinkel looked at them, every person she had loved and lost. Her parents. Chris. Vicky. Yumiko.

She wanted to stay. She wanted it so badly. To be with them again. She could forget all her rage, and pain, and grief. All the self-loathing and reproaches would become meaningless.

She took a deep breath and stepped back.

"I... I think the others need me." She didn't want to go. But she had to.

One last round of hugs. One last kiss. "I'll be back," she promised.

"Of course you will," her father said. His smile was serene. There was no reason it could not be.

Heinkel turned around and began to run into the direction she had come from. Before she changed her mind. There were things she needed to take care of.

Their voices followed her like a breeze. "Never forget we love you. We're very proud of you." Then their echoes died away and she was alone in the blankness. The white began to darken and faded into black. Before she could think of stopping, there was nothing.

* * *

The sun was shining brightly through the window right on her face. It would be a beautiful autumn day. She blinked into the light and cursed under her breath, still half asleep. Why didn't she close the curtains last night?

Yawning, she sat up. The motion caused her head to spin and she needed a while to gather herself and stretch. Her muscles were stiff and sore and it cracked in more places than she'd like.

"I'm getting old," she joked into the empty room. She pushed the covers back and swung her legs out of bed. Again, a sharp pang of pain, turning into a constant, dull burning, as if her legs had been asleep. Aside of that, she felt stuffy and dirty, although there was no apparent cause to it.

Taking in the clean clothes over the chair at the window, she stood up, holding on to the wall for a moment, and then trod into the shower. Half an hour later, clean and after a few glasses of water, things were looking up.

She made the bed and checked her pockets. Then she noticed something was off.

First thing: Her phone wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Second thing: Where the hell were her guns? She never left them anywhere if there was any other way. Never.

And last: Why was she here? Sure, it wasn't the first time she had slept in the orphanage after a mission, but...

Heinkel swayed a little and let her shoulder lean against the wall. The ache in her legs had vanished after the shower, except for an occasional tingling. There was something she forgot. Something that had been buried in her memory. And it was something important.

First things first. She needed to get her weapons if she wanted to feel calm again. The rooms of employees and guests were on the top floor, right under the roof of the old building. It was strangely quiet. The halls were deserted.

Well, it was the middle of the week, most of the kids should be in school. But it hadn't been that quiet in years.

Heinkel descended two staircases and then exited the building. She was craving for some sun right now, though the air was chilly on her face. It was a beautiful day. She could hear a clock striking eleven. Where was everybody? Not even the adults were here, organizing whatever came their way. Heinkel walked around the orphanage to the back sides. The thinning shades of the trees didn't cover the lawn yet. Here was one entrance to what very few knew of: The true center of Iscariot.

_We work from the shadows, but we serve the light._

She grinned. It faded when she saw a rectangular black shape. That hadn't been here before. She walked over to the strange new addition in the back of this large garden.

There was a little podium of polished black stone. It was fresh. She could still see where it had been set into the earth, tearing apart the withering grass. On the podium rose the wall she had seen. It formed a soft curve, not yet a semi-circle, bending towards the visitor. Golden letters had been set into the stone, tiny and sturdy.

_To the noble warriors of Iscariot, that fell in the Battle of London_

_September 22nd, 2016_

There were rows of names. Many names. Pictures began to flood back, not a crushing tsunami, just seeping into her memory again. She ran her hand over the letters, feeling the edges. How long had this been in storage, just waiting for the words to be set in? Waiting for the names of those that didn't know they were dead.

_Søren Kolbeck_

_Connor Davis_

_Victoria Caine_

_Issac Newton "Jonesy" Jones_

_Erik Charles Beauridge_

_Peter "Hannibal" Hopkins_

_Marco Renaldo_

_Mark Elliot_

_Nils Svensson_

_Angelo di Lorenzo_

_Abraham Blaire_

_Yumiko Takagi_

_Maxim Rodriguez_

_Stellan Henriksen_

_Luca di Salvo_

The stone was icy under her fingers. She looked over the other columns, but there was nobody else that had been quite as close as those three names.

Heinkel turned around and walked back to the house, aiming for the secret base beyond. There was a chapel. It was really quiet here, but she needed to be somewhere else. She needed time to figure this out.

Marco died. Vicky died. Even Yumiko. At least Vicky and Yumiko had been there... In her dream. Was it just that? The dream of an injured warrior, fueled by her grief and rage and sorrow?

But Heinkel had always been a practical person. This whole train of thought brought up a completely different question: What day was it? How long had she been unconscious?

The room had looked pretty normal. People that were in a coma couldn't just stand up and walk around. The muscles deteriorated and tendons shortened.

_Issues, huh? _A temporary memory loss, obviously. But she didn't feel as bad as she probably should have, physically and emotionally. The meeting with her lost friends and family had put out the fire of rage and grief, replacing it with a dull sensation of missing something. Still...

The door was unlocked, which was strange. There was a digital clock right in the entrance hallway.

_Sunday, September 25th, 2016_

_11:03 am_

That explained why nobody was here. They were in Sunday Mass. So why was the door unlocked?

Her feet carried her through silent, soundproof rooms, across what everybody jokingly called "the nerd room", which meant the small computer center Enrico had begun to build up. Eventually, she stopped in front of the door. The chapel. Of course.

The room was small and lit only by candles. A soft buzzing indicated the vents were activated to carry the smoke outside. Dark wooden benches to each side, a modest altar.

There was one single figure kneeling in the front row, praying in silence. The ponytail was shimmering in the lights, making it impossible to determine the color. The person looked up when he heard the door close, and got to his feet. He moved like he was in pain. Still the broken ribs. It only had been three days, after all.

When Enrico saw her, he froze, his eyes widening in shock. There was a nasty wound under his left eye. When had that happened? For a moment Heinkel actually thought he would pass out.

"Hi," she said. That was the lamest thing she could have said, but a second later, her boss and leader stormed at her and she was pulled into a hug. That had to hurt like hell. Heinkel didn't move, too startled to do anything. Enrico was not the type for showing such an affection to anyone, with the exception of Lisa.

"Heinkel, how... when..." He stepped back and brushed the loose strands out of his face, a fidgety gesture of excitement and confusion. Another small change: He had always worn his hair long enough so he didn't have it hanging in his face when he wore a ponytail. But now the front strands were only chin-long. Heinkel could only guess it was an attempt to hide the unpleasant injury and the scar he would get.

"You were dying," he finally got out. "We brought you here because... because... God, they said even if you woke up you'd be paralyzed."

Heinkel blinked at him. Her injuries. Oh, right. Falling out of the damn zeppelin. "Well... I guess..."

_The regenerator serum has kept you alive so far, but your injuries were very bad. You might... have some issues._

No issues so far. Did that mean she was a regenerator now? The thought came with mixed feelings. She had noticed nothing unusual on her body, no additional scars, no bruises. But that meant she would probably never get rid of those that were already there.

Her stomach growled audibly. To her own surprise, she blushed. A small smile spread over Enrico's face, a bit lopsided by the pain it probably caused.

"Can you wait a while longer? Alex is making his famous spaghetti for noon."

That was something she could live with. They sat down on the bench and Enrico gave her a quick rundown on what had happened, from when Anderson faced the vampire queen, Walter's sudden change of mind, to the end of the battle. The Major's death, his unexpected nature, their departure.

Now the oldest cardinals held the reigns in Rome, while in Britain another line of the royal family had taken over temporarily and was waiting for confirmation. A _Catholic_ line. The Anglican Church still existed, but there were rumors going around about making it an independent religion, not the official British church.

Nobody really knew what the hell had happened in London, and the survivors didn't talk about it. Caitlyn Hellsing had been in Vatican custody, but had been released a day after, to help with rebuilding the political structures of a new London.

Heinkel had missed the ceremony at the new memorial stone. It had been held despite some of the paladins still hovering between life and death. No rest for anyone, wicked or good.

But the strangest thing was yet to come. Section 13 was celebrated as heroes. Well, not exactly celebrated, but they were looked upon with much less scorn than usual. Not even Makube and his Section VIII had been able to lay a finger on Iscariot. There were some open questions about the extermination of the crusaders, but in all the chaos, it had just been swept under a carpet of more important questions.

"And now everything is back to normal?", Heinkel asked. This was a lot of information to take in and the thought of everybody just going back to eating lunch here was... disturbing.

"Most that survived the battle without major injuries got a few days off," Enrico said. "Actually... Lisa and I will go to Canada for a while. The bureaucracy follows me there anyway, so..." He cleared his throat. "It just felt wrong to leave while you were... unconscious."

Heinkel had no clue what to say to something like that. It was definitely one of the sweetest things the chief had ever said, and that made this incredibly awkward. But she didn't have to, because the door was opened. Anderson did a double take when he saw her. Then a bone-crushing hug followed and she was scooped up bridal style. Lisa followed on his heels and Heinkel had to go through pretty much the same things she had already heard. It was cute, but really, really annoying.

One thing bothered her. Two things, actually.

"Father, can you please put me down? I can walk."

"No."

She blinked. Anderson carried her along the corridor to the main room of the base. "What?"

"Ah said No."

She looked at the Maxwell siblings for help and didn't get any. They just smiled and shook their heads. She sighed. _Hell._

She wanted to ask about Yumie, but her partner already sat at the table. Her face displayed the same emotions she had seen three times already, but there was also a hint of satisfaction.

"I knew you would make it," Yumie said. Anderson sat Heinkel down right next to her and they hugged. There was a cane leaning on the table.

Yumie shrugged. "Everybody's exaggerating." She patted her stomach. The thick bandage pressed through the fabric of her dress.

"I know that feeling," Heinkel said with a glance to Anderson, who had gone to get the spaghetti. In a low voice, she said: "Yumiko's fine, you know? Vicky too."

Her partner's violet eyes darkened a few shades, but she nodded. So they sat and ate, a small group of friends.

Maybe, some things never changed after all.

* * *

_New Hellsing Mansion, outside London, August 13th, 2027_

The little girl spun when she heard their steps. The two vampires stopped. It was quiet in here, but still, usually people didn't hear them at all.

"Who are you?", the girl demanded. She had to be about eight or nine years old and wore a blue dress down to her ankles. Golden hair fell down on her shoulders, opposing a natural dark tan. Her bright blue eyes looked at them, but she didn't see them. The little girl was blind.

Walter frowned when he noticed Mira staring at the child.

_What's wrong?_

Mira shook her head, still flustered. _It's her. Professor Abigail van Helsing._

"Who are you?", Walter asked back.

The girl snorted as if that question was a big offense. Her face remained almost unchanged. How should it? She had never seen facial expressions before.

"I am Abigail Hellsing, the future leader of the Hellsing organization! How did you get in here and what do you want?"

"My apologies, Lady Hellsing," Mira said and got down on one knee. "I didn't know... Is the current Lady here?"

The girl hesitated. Then something like understanding ran over her freckled face. Her blue eyes widened. "It's you! You're... I only heard stories..." She turned around and ran to the staircase. "MOM!"

There were already steps on the stairs. Caitlyn had not grown older, but more mature. Back then, she had always looked like a child in her parent's clothes, but now she was a grown woman, comfortable in her life. She jumped down the last few steps lightly and froze.

"Mom, are they... is that..."

"Mira, Walter," Caitlyn said, her voice completely flat with astonishment.

Now Walter bowed down as well with just the same smile she had always known. "Milady."

* * *

_Vancouver International Airport, September 30th, 2016_

The sky was full of clouds, heavy with rain, but it was still relatively warm. A single ray of sunlight hit the concrete of the landing strip just as they left the airplane. The roar of other planes starting or landing drowned everything else. Just another day on this aerial crossroad.

They walked down the gangway, just two more passengers. Not famous, not suspicious, not even particularly noticeable.

They were greeted by echoing voices, speaker announcements and myriads of steps. Their bags were among the first that came out and a few minutes later they saw two familiar faces at the exit. Lisa began to run, ignoring her brother's quiet curse. She fell into James Maxwell's arms. Enrico was more careful. Since that day before the battle, they hadn't spoken anymore. Many things were different now. The first news started going out.

Laura stroked his cheek, carefully avoiding the line of stitches, and smiled.

And suddenly one thing was sure.

* * *

_Munich Airport, September 30th, 2016_

Alessia squealed in delight when she saw them and almost took her sister off her feet.

"I told you, I'd be there," Heinkel said with a breathless laugh. Alessia nodded and took the bag out of Yumie's hand.

The paladin huffed, if only for formality's sake. "I can carry that!" Alessia shrugged her shoulders and led the way. Elena and Damien were already waiting.

They stopped in front of each other. "Hey," Heinkel said quietly.

* * *

"We're home."

* * *

Hehe ~ always been a sucker for good endings. Too cheesy? I actually knew it would end like this long ago, but now I want to know your opinion.

I planned out the Alternate Universe _way _past this point, with different poissible time lines. For example, in one Mira and Walter are back pretty soon. In another (I dreamed that; weird I know) Vicky isn't dead but comes back as a vampire and they try to find a cure for her. The Sword f Rapahael (Enrico's sword) also played a huge role in this headcanon, giving him on the long term some rather unnatural powers involving electricity. And as to Caitlyn, Britain too has some bioengineering programs going... who knows what it would be like to move the environment with our thoughts...

You see, I went way over the top there and sort of just stuck with it, because I'd never put it into a full-grown fanfic. There are some short stories, but most of them are way too random or crappy to upload.

This is probably gonna be my last Hellsing fic for now, unless I decide to translate my previous project into English. I'm sort of in a different fandom for now, not sure for how long.

Did I mention I'm working on my drawing skills? I made a little doodle for my version of Enrico; check out "Second chances" on deviantart; profile name Cedidit. (This site crushes any attempt at trying to include a link. Sorry.)

One last thing: It's been fun. I loved working on this and I loved to read your thoughts and comments. (Also, if anyone happens to find this way later than when I'm writing these lines, feel free to comment anyway. I'd be super happy!)

Once again, thanks for the ride guys and see you again.


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